


Oasis

by wingthing



Series: The EQ Alternaverse - Oasis [3]
Category: Elfquest
Genre: EQ Alternaverse, Gen, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-06
Updated: 2015-09-06
Packaged: 2018-04-19 07:29:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 46,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4737851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wingthing/pseuds/wingthing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For ages untold, Sorrow's End has been a sanctuary for the High One's Children. But all things end in their time...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Recognition

Aballan turned his head towards the sunrise. The land east of their camp was parched and broken into great fissures. Small earthquakes rippled through camp every few days, and the fissures seemed to move constantly. 

“This is an evil place,” Tagon, the chief hunter of their clan, complained. “We are in Manach’s land, and he does not suffer fools gladly.” 

Aballan held firm. They were poised on the western edge of the great Mountains of the Sun. To the north lay parched sands of the barren waste. To the south lay the badlands and more desert. To the east lay the highest peaks, the birthplace of the sun. The birthplace of Manach. 

The tremors frightened them all, even dear Tarach, his shaman’s apprentice. But Aballan held to his course. It had been three years since the eclipse had given him the idea of a great trade route spanning the desert. In three years they had slowly migrated from the badlands of their ancestors to the Mountains of the Sun. Kassa and his horse-messengers had found a safe passage that crossed the northern desert in a mere two days. Already they had cut the trade route from west to east down from five months to twenty days. But Aballan was not satisfied. Not while Tagon continued to announce loudly that the game was poor where they camped. Not while the people listened to his blustering complaints. 

Aballan’s legs ached and his heart struggled to keep with his body. But he could not die yet. Not until Tarach’s position as shaman was assured. Not until Tagon and the hunters had been silenced once and for all. 

“I like not these tremors, Master,” Tarach sighed one morning. “Do you think Manach is trying to tell us something.” 

Aballan scoffed. “This trade route will bring prosperity to the Red Rock Clan for a hundred generations. What are a few tremors to us?” 

“But... if it is a sign?” 

“Tarach, you must listen to your heart, not to the whispers of the rabble.” Aballan closed his eyes. “I know in my heart that Manach wishes us to prosper. No, the tremors are not signs of his displeasure. They are a test. Are we such cowards that we flee at a little discomfort? No. We are Manach’s Chosen. We will prevail. We will prove ourselves to our god.” 

Tarach nodded. Yes, that did make a much more pleasing explanation. 

* * * 

Three shadows crouched among the rocks, and three pairs of eyes watched the humans warily. 

**Curse it,** Windkin growled. 

**What did they say?** Grayling asked. 

**I can’t piece it all together. But enough that I can tell they aren’t leaving. The fat one there – he said the ground-quakes are a test of their will. Their devotion to their god.** 

Ahdri grit her teeth. **I could make the quakes most intense. Collapse a few of their tents. Maybe even kill one or two of the males. Should I, Grayling?** 

**No, not yet. I have to think about this.** 

**We could always make up a little costume of hides and moth-fabric and give them a message from their “Man-ak’ himself. Or is herself?** 

**You’d better make sure of that, lifemate,** Ahdri chuckled softly. 

Grayling sat back on his haunches. **Ahdri... where are they getting their water from?** 

Ahdri closed her eyes and touched the rocky ground. **There’s a great deal of water locked underground. They dig a hole in the sand until they reach the water. A crude well.** 

**Can you... lower the level of the groundwater? Don’t dry the well up, but take it down just enough to make them work all the more harder?** 

Ahdri nodded. **Easily done.** She shifted her fingers on the rock and bent her head. Another gentle tremor laced under their feet. **There. It’s dropped by an elf’s height.** She smiled as she opened her eyes. **They’ll have to dig almost twice as deep to get clean water.** 

**Good. Above all, we can’t expose ourselves. Bearclaw taught me that lesson back in Father Tree. They can never see us, never put a face to their misery. But if they believe it’s simply the hardships of the desert they might return to their homelands. Come on, let’s get back to the village.** 

They got up from their hiding place and disappeared into the pre-dawn shadows. 

* * * 

Three days later the scouts were back in Sorrow’s End with no real developments to report. The humans were still camped within few days’ travel. They still refused to leave not matter what hardships Ahdri engineered into the rocks. The elves could only wait and see what would happen. 

The training of the Sun Folk was progressing well. Ember and Teir had returned to the New Land and the Wild Hunt, but Sust and Coppersky remained to help Grayling with his lessons. An uneasy truce existed between the jackwolves and Sust’s tuftcats, who kept to separate dens in the caves. 

Grayling paced down the line of prospective archers. Ember’s mother Behtia was showing great promise with the bow. Shashen balanced his long dart into his atlatl, trying to line up his sights. Maleen bit her lip and drew her bow-arm back while her lifemate Ruffel giggled and clapped her hands. Grayling seized her firmly by the shoulders and set her on the sidelines, out of the way. 

He passed potters- and farmers-turned-warriors to the end of the line, where Alekah the loomworker struggled to line her sights. Grayling sighed. She was the most devoted of the lot, but she simply didn’t have a natural ability for archery. But somewhere along the course of training, Alekah decided she wanted to master the bow, and Grayling could hardly refuse a pupil who arrived at lessons so promptly everyday. 

“Here,” Grayling reached his arms about her shoulders to realign her posture. “Let your body help you. If your shoulders and feet are in line, your eyes will follow naturally.” 

She nodded and allowed him to reposition her limbs. “Now... hold your left arm up like this... no, don’t hold it too rigidly. Too tense is worse than too loose.” He turned her shoulders again. “There. Now take a deep breath. Think of your whole body as a line straight to the target. Now draw your arm back, no, don’t pull the bowstring sharply. A smooth motion. There. Now, don’t give the cord a ‘twang’ when you release. But don’t mother it either. A quick release. Don’t overthink – you always overthink your motions.” 

“I’m trying to keep–” she began. 

“Now!” 

Alekah released the bowstring. The arrow flew perfectly to the battered quiver tree, scoring a solid shot. 

“There you are,” Grayling smiled. 

Alekah turned in his arms to smile up at her teacher. 

The sun seemed to strike her golden-brown eyes at a sharp angle, setting them aglow. 

No... now it seemed her entire body was alight, wreathed in a softly pulsing aura. 

Grayling felt all the air rush out of his lungs, as if someone had punched him in the stomach. 

Alekah pressed up against his chest and he could feel her heart racing against his breastbone. Or was it his own heart, beating in time? 

**Kel?** 

Her sending was so strong, it almost knocked him over. He felt torn, his mental defenses shredded by one cleanly-shot arrow. 

**Alekah?** 

Strange, he had never realized what power that simple name held... 

**Kel...** 

“Uh... here, let’s work over here, away from the crowd,” Grayling stammered, disentangling himself from her. “Now, you’ll have to learn to do this under pressure eventually, you know. But I think... over here.” He hustled Alekah away from the line of students. 

Maleen giggled. “Lucky Alekah.” 

Ruffel slapped her shoulder affectionately. 

**Kel... what–?** Alekah began as Grayling once again firmly set her arms in a shooter’s posture. 

“All right, I want you to line up against that squatneedle over there.” In sending he hissed: **Don’t say a word. Tongues will wag soon enough.** 

**Kel... this... this can’t be.** She fought tears from welling in her tears. **I have a lifemate!** 

**And so have I. But Recognition is Recognition. It’s not about us, it’s about the cub waiting to be born.** 

**What... what do we do?** 

“No, shoulders square. Hold your head straight.” **You have to talk to Jari. And I have to talk to Hansha. We’ll meet at your hut at sundown... and we’ll figure out how to make this work.** 

“Like... like this?” Alekah tried to assume the correct stance. But her muscles were locked tight. 

**Don’t breathe a word of this to anyone,** Grayling warned, a little more harshly than he had intended. **No one can know of this, not until we’ve settled everything.** 

Alekah nodded. 

“All right, you’re too tense,” Grayling said loud enough for others to overhear. “Did you pull this muscle?” 

Alekah caught on quickly. “I thought it was just strained.” 

“No, you’re not doing yourself any good coming out here with a pulled bow-arm. Good work today, but you need to go see the healer and get it patched up.” 

“I think I’ll be fine. I just need to rest.” 

“I know what you mean. This sun is getting to me. All right. I’ll see you tomorrow. Go home and rest.” 

“Thank you, Grayling.” Alekah handed him the bow and turned to leave. She almost bolted, but she restrained herself to a purposeful walk. 

She was so disciplined... he had always admired that. 

He found his eyes lingering on the smooth lines of her body as she retreated. The slight swing of her hips and the lithe muscles that worked under her soft skin seemed to beckon him to follow. 

Her skin was so warm... 

He staggered, raising a hand to his temple. Revulsion overcame him. When had he ever wanted to feel such desire for a maiden – for any elf but his lifemate? But now all he saw when he closed his eyes was Alekah. Her owl-eyes haunted him. 

“Grayling?” Halek called. “Are you well?” 

“Nhh, curse it. Actually I think I’m getting a touch of sunstroke.” 

“You’ve been out all morning, chief. Take a rest. I’ll take over.” 

“My thanks,” Grayling said as he limped away from the training area. 

He overheard Ruffel whisper: “Mm, holding a maiden in his arms always makes him go white, eh?” 

“Quite allergic,” Maleen shot back. 

Grayling kept a measured pace until he was out of sight of the archers. Then he hastened down the path to his hut. He had to see Hansha. Everything would make sense once he saw his lifemate again. 

He found Hansha in their herb garden, collecting several sprigs of a sweet-smelling plant. He used all manner of aromatics in his forges to temper the smell and heat of metalworking. 

“Hansha!” Grayling cried. Hansha straightened and turned just as Grayling crushed him in a hug. 

“Grayling?” Hansha stammered as Grayling held him close. He felt his lifemate’s hot tears on his neck. **Kel? What is it? What’s happened?** 

Grayling straightened, touched his forehead to Hansha’s. He summoned a bittersweet smile. “The best and worst thing that could ever happen to us.” 

Hansha’s eyes widened. Immediately he understood. 

“Who?” 

“Alekah.” 

“Alekah? But she has a lifemate.” 

“Mh. It should make things easier.” 

“What... what do we do?” 

“We’re going to meet her and Jari at sundown. We’ll... settle things properly... about us and about the cub, before we do anything.” 

“A child...” Hansha’s eyes lit up. He almost smiled. 

“What’s it like... Recognition?” he asked. 

Grayling shook his head. “It’s... it’s like overripe dreamberries, just as Swift said. My head is spinning. To know yourself, to think you know yourself – and to have another soul suddenly there...” He cupped Hansha’s face in his hands. “Not a soul I chose to let in, but one that forced its way in... painful. And at the same time... to have that invader suddenly tear open a part of yourself you never knew existed. It’s... beyond words. Beyond joy and sorrow.” 

“And Alekah?” 

“Ohhh... I want her,” Grayling confessed. “She’s... lit a fever in me. I’m sick to death and I know I won’t feel safe until I have her. But she’s not my lifemate,” he added, before Hansha’s heart could sink. “And she’ll never be. My green eyes,” he stroked Hansha’s cheek. “She’s a fever that will pass. And when I wake up, all I’ll see will be you. And the child we’ll have. You and me.” 

Hansha hugged him tightly. 

* * * 

Alekah and Jari were waiting for them as the sun slowly dropped behind the desert’s edge. Their hut was decorated with the many tapestries Alekah had woven on her great loom. Jari sat next to his lifemate, his hand on hers protectively. The red-haired farmer eyed the two newcomers with suspicion and fear. Grayling remembered his face from those first days in Sorrow’s End. He had always kept to the background, averting his eyes from any passing Wolfrider. Whether out of distrust or shyness, Grayling had never decided. Yet now his gaze was steady, accusing. 

“Sit down,” Alekah said, trying to sound welcoming. 

Grayling and Hansha sat down on the mats across from them. “Before we say anything more, I’d like to make a few things clear,” Grayling said. He reached out and took Hansha’s hand. “I have no wish to be lifemated – or even lovemated to Alekah. I’ve made it no secret that I’ve never had any of those feelings for maidens, and Recognition hasn’t changed that. When this is all over, I want to think of Alekah has the mother of my child, nothing more. Brother and sister, if you will. As for the child that’s waiting for us – well, Hansha and I have been lifemates for eight-eights times eight, and our desire for a child is no secret either. And I do intend to be a father to our child, and I intend Hansha to be the child’s father too. And that is what I want out of this Recognition.” 

“Well said, Grayling,” Alekah said coolly. “But now it is my turn. Jari and I have not been mated as long as you and Hansha, but our love is just as strong as yours, and I haven’t the slightest desire to lose my lifemate. I’ve always respected and admired you, Grayling. And I hope in term a genuine love can develop between the four of us. But Jari and I have long wanted a child of our own as well. And if you expect me to relinquish my child to you, then you are going to be sorely disappointed.” 

Grayling chuckled. “Well, we’re in agreement, then. They’ll be no four-matings, and we all want to play a part in raising the child.” 

“What do you suggest we do?” Jari asked. 

“We raise the child together,” Grayling said. “Three fathers and a mother. We can have a great hut built in which to all live, or if we can’t stand each other that well, then I’ll have new hut for Hansha and me built right next to yours.” 

Alekah glanced at Jari. “Sounds... a little too simple,” he said at length. 

“It’s going to be madness,” Hansha cut in. “But we’ll figure out some order to it. We’ll have to.” 

“We can either be enemies, two tribes forced together against our will. Or we can be allies... and family,” Grayling said. 

Hansha grew grave again. “You two could always hope for Recognition together. Grayling and I never had those dreams. We had to make new plans, plans that include more than two parents and one child.” 

Alekah moaned and rubbed her forehead. “It would be so simpler if...” 

“‘If’ is gone now,” Grayling said. 

Alekah sat up straighter. “So... if we were to all live together, share raising of the child... I take it when it came to disputes about childrearing, the birth parents would have the final say.” 

“No,” Grayling said firmly, surprising her. “No. All four of us would have equal say. Mother, sire, fathers – all would be as one. The moment we teach our child that blood matters more than love, we make Jari and Hansha less than family.” 

“And if Jari and I take one stand, and you and Hansha take another?” 

“Then we’ll solve our differences as any parents solve quarrels: with patience and gentleness. Failing that, we’ll appeal to Savah or Sun-Toucher for guidance. How does that strike you?” 

Jari and Alekah considered it. “It... sounds... fair.” 

Grayling risked a kind smile. “I know it’s hard to imagine. All three of you, Jari, Alekah, even you, Hansha: you were all raised by one father, one mother. Recognition worked out well and made a simple straight-forward family. Me... I was raised by a mother who ignored me, a brother who resented me, and a father who was no father. When my sister was born, I became her brother-and-father-both. And Swift will tell you that it worked out just as well that way. We can make this work. We owe it to our child.” 

Alekah nodded. “The child comes first.” 

Silence fell over the the foursome. At length Jari spoke. “So... I supposed we’re agreed.” 

“Aye,” Alekah nodded. “There’s... nothing more to say, really.” 

Another awkward moment of silence. Finally Hansha got to his feet. “We’re acting like scared kitlings. We all know what needs to be done. The question is – now? Or do we wait?” 

“We?” Alekah stood. “I don’t think you have any part to play in this, Hansha.” 

“He’s right,” Grayling said. He glanced at his Recognized. The tension in the air was palpable. 

“No point in delaying,” Alekah said. “The sooner begun, the sooner completed.” 

Grayling nodded. A humourless smile crossed his face. “Hansha... why don’t you and Jari take a walk around the village?” 

Hansha moved to Jari’s side. “Come on, Jari. Let’s get to know each other a little better, hmm?” 

“Lifemate?” Jari took Alekah’s hand. 

“It’s all right. Go.” 

Jari reluctantly left her side. Hansha and Grayling shared one last glance, then Hansha turned and escorted the farmer out into the gathering night. 

“I never thought Recognition would be like this,” Alekah said. “I expected nothing but joy.” 

Grayling smiled faintly. “I’m... actually a little relieved.” 

“Relieved?” she stared at him in horror. 

“Part of me... was always afraid Recognition might just be strong enough to lessen what I feel for Hansha. Now... well, it's not so bad, really.” 

Alekah held out her hand. He took it. She took a step towards him, and he did not retreat. 

A flicker of dread crossed his face, and now it was Alekah’s turn to smile softly. 

“You’ve never... with a maiden before, have you?” 

He shook his head. 

“I don’t bite,” she assured him. 

“Are you certain about that?” 

She touched his cheek. “I... I don’t know what to make of any of this. I... want to hate you for what you’re doing to me. What I feel right now... my mind racing one way, my body another... and I know which is going to win out. And I should hate you – just... just because it’s you and not Jari!” Tears sprang in her eyes, and she balled her free hand in a fist. “But in the end... you’re going to be father of my child... and–” 

Grayling pressed his forehead to hers. “Kel...” she murmured. “You... you’re Kel. And I know you.” 

“And I know you, Alekah,” he whispered back, giving her hand a squeeze. 

* * * 

The Palace appeared on the edge of the village not three days after the afternoon when Maleen and Ruffel first started to gossip about Grayling and Alekah. First out of the Palace was Swift, Blood of Ten Chief. She raced across the sand and threw her arms tight about her brother’s neck. 

“Now you know the mystery, brother,” she whispered in his ear. 

He laughed as he hugged her back. “Your tales never did it justice.” 

“How is the new family faring?” she asked as they took a long walk down the familiar paths of the village. 

“Family... it’s still a little hard to believe. Quite well, all things considered. Jari’s still a little afraid I’m going to steal Alekah away, and Alekah’s convinced Hansha’s going to steal the cub away the moment it’s born. But it’s been a full two days and we haven’t actually started shouting yet.” He chuckled. “I still can’t believe there’s a little life inside Alekah.” 

“A little chief-in-training,” Swift added. 

Grayling smiled. “A child. I will have a child. Oh, you have no idea how long I’ve waited–” 

“Oh, yes, I do. Right from the days you were helping Joyleaf raise me, I knew you were practicing for the day you had a cub of your own.” 

“And you?” he wrapped an arm about her shoulders. “How do you feel, knowing you’re not the only maiden in my life now?” 

“A little... uneasy, I’ll admit,” Swift laughed. “I hope no more than you were when Skywise and I found each other’s souls. But I reckon I shared you with Mother once, so I can share you with Alekah now.” 

He kissed her temple. “You’ll always be the first lass in my heart, you know.” 

“Mmm, I’ll be an aunt. Someone has to keep you from turning a good Wolfrider cub into a mewling little dirt-digger, eh?” 

“Mewling dirt-digger, am I?” Grayling shifted his arm about her throat. “This old wolf may not be sprouting face-fur, but he has fangs enough, I promise you.” 

“Glad to hear it. I expect your cub to be the terror of the Sun Village.” 

Grayling’s face darkened. “The humans keep coming... passing by on their blasted treks across the desert. Will the village even be here by the time the cub’s born?” 

“I’ve been giving your problem a lot of thought. It’s clear you won’t be able to raise a mountain wall around the village in time. Leaving in the Palace is no option, I take it.” 

Grayling shook his head. 

“Humans came here once before and we drove them away. There were only four of them that time... but perhaps we can do it again. These aren’t the followers of Gotara. Perhaps... perhaps they can be reasoned with. Perhaps if we cannot hide, we can learn to co-exist.” 

“I’ve been thinking of that too,” Grayling nodded. “And I’ve got Windkin and Wing watching them, learning their language. The Islanders learned to get along with humans long ago. The Gliders and the Hoan-G’Tay-Sho got along for years... though from what Windkin told me, that hasn’t ended well. And from what Coppersky and Ember have told me, the Plainsrunners are managing to keep one step ahead of the humans in the far north of your new land. I’m not giving up by any means. If we can’t hide, we’ll try for peace. If we can’t have peace... well... I’m not afraid to fight. Leaving Sorrow’s End... that’s the last resort.” 

“I know. And Sust and Coppersky are doing a fine job of training your new warriors. If it comes to a fight, I know you’ll be ready. But you weren’t there for the Palace War, Grayling. And even locksending can’t begin to tell you...” 

“I won’t have my child born in a world where we must hide ourselves in the ground like trolls!” 

“I know, Grayling. But... don’t look for an unwanted war.” 

He sighed. “No one wants war less than I, Swift. Especially now. But every day I see those humans passing by in the distance eats at my heart. I cannot bear it some days. Three years of waiting... of preparing for a war that may never come... or that may come tomorrow.” 

Swift clasped his hand tightly in hers. “We’re here to help you, Grayling. No elf must ever stand alone anymore.” 

* * * 

Sun-Toucher stood on the edge of the Bridge of Destiny, his sightless eyes trained on the northwestern horizon. 

“Welcome, young Venka,” he said. “And you, Ahdri. Take care, the wind rises with the sun.” 

“My footing is firm, Sun-Toucher,” Venka replied. She withdrew a long tube from the folds of her caftan. Holding the tube to her eye, she gazed northward. 

“What is that you have there, child?” 

“A spyglass, Sun-Toucher. Two pieces of clearstone carefully placed to magnify an elf’s sight.” 

“What do you see?” Ahdri asked. 

Venka focused the spyglass carefully. “A train of humans wending its way northward. They’re making for the gap in the tall rocks... and the forests of the Everwood beyond. They have pack-animals. No-humps, loaded with supplies. But I cannot see anything more.” 

“They come and go. And go and come back,” Ahdri sighed. “What do they want?” 

“They’re traders, I think. They move goods back and forth between the badlands far to the west and the forests to the northeast. Like the Plainsrunners move between summer and winter hunting grounds.” 

“Do you think they’ll stay where they are?” Ahdri asked. 

Venka lowered the spyglass and shook her head. “They are Rootless Ones, as the Sun Folk once were. And they will set down wherever they choose.” 

The rockshaper nodded solemnly. “Then Ekuar and I had best continue work on our wall. Perhaps if they reach us... we can convince them to pass us by.” 

“We must take the winds as they come,” Sun-Toucher said. “If a storm is coming... we must face it and pass through it.” He stiffened, and it seemed a light flashed in the milky depths of his gray eyes. “We are being watched by ancient eyes.” 

Venka turned and looked over her shoulder. Timmain, the High One, was standing on the rocks below, scanning the air as might as a wolf. 

“She’s nervous too,” Venka whispered. 

“I did not think the High One could be moved,” Ahdri said. “The few times we have crossed paths... she is so calm... as calm as Savah.” 

“No, not like Savah. She still has the wolf inside her. Her hackles are up.” 

* * * 

Swift had to return to the Great Holt. The winter floods had come early, she explained, and the Wolfriders were struggling to repair the damage the early rains had done. “They call it summer in the Islands,” she told Grayling. “Storm season. The winds will strike up soon, and we’ll have to den ourselves for the next moon or so. I’m needed. But Venka and Zhantee and Tass are staying to spend time with Zhantee’s parents. You can rely on Venka as my sword-arm.” 

Grayling smiled. “I couldn’t ask for better counsel that your daughter.” 

As they reached the threshold of the Palace, Swift turned and saw Timmain lingering on the rocks, her long gown fluttering in the breeze. Swift whistled shrilly. “Timmain! You coming?” 

**I will stay here as well, and help your daughter watch over the Sun Folk.** 

Swift frowned. **This is unexpected. What’s biting you?** 

**I smell danger on the wind, child. I will remain here until I find its source.** 

Swift heaved a sigh. “All right, Timmain.” She rolled her eyes. 

Grayling looked worried and more than a little confused. Swift gave his bicep a friendly punch. “What is it?” 

“The High One. You treat her... like she’s a wolf or something.” 

Swift shrugged. “She was my wolf. Like as not she’ll decide to be one again.” 

A Preserver buzzed about her ears before landing on her shoulder. “Mother-mother highthing staying here?” 

“Aye, Petalwing.” Swift had an idea, and smiled. “Petalwing. I need you to stay here. Keep an eye on Timmain.” 

“No fuss-muss! Petalwing take good care of mother-mother highthing.” 

“You watch her too, Grayling,” Swift whispered. “She’s not like Savah. A mountain’s age as a wolf is a hard habit to break. Ask Venka – she can name all the little creatures’ skins Timmain has tried on since she become an elf again. If you aren’t careful she’ll disappear on you and forget to come back.” 

“The Now of Wolf-thought?” Grayling raised an eyebrow. 

“A deadly dose of it,” Swift chuckled. 

“Well, we know the dangers of that,” he smiled back, touching his forehead to hers. 

Swift hugged him goodbye. All too soon she was inside the Palace, and all too soon the Palace disappeared with a burst of light and little “pop.” Petalwing buzzed about Grayling happily. 

“Big-busyhead highthing!” it chirped. 

“That’s sharpdash highthing,” he corrected. 

He looked back at the rocks where he had last seen Timmain. She was gone. 

Curious, Grayling hiked up to find her. Instead all he found was her gown and sandals. 

He heard heavy panting and a friendly whine of a jackwolf. He glanced over his shoulder and saw a new jackwolf standing among the rocks. Its eyes were bright golden. 

“Timmain?” 

The jackwolf seemed to nod in reply, then turned and scampered off across the broken landscape. “Now of Wolf-thought...” Grayling murmured to himself. 

* * * 

Ahdri and Ekuar continued work on the wall, and it rose to new heights even as daily tremors set windchimes rattling. Soon it stood a full four human-spans high, and Ekuar carefully weathered the outer edge to make it appear a natural formation. It still looked oddly artificial when seen from outside, but slowly Grayling’s confidence began to grow. A month after the Palace left Sorrow’s End, he felt a renewed optimism. 

Venka and Zhantee relaxed in the shade by the training yard, watching the warriors practice. Venka had given up the scanty leathers of the Great Holt for linen caftans, and had freed her hair from her usual snug headbands. Grayling thought the new habit suited her, as did the slight sunburn to her cheeks that betrayed her Wolfrider heritage. 

He sat down next the couple. Their daughter Tass was apparently taking archery lessons with young Shashen. But judging by her flowing moth-fabric dress most unsuitable for training – to say nothing of her habit of pressing her back into his chest – Grayling could imagine she wasn’t planning on hunting ravvits. 

“I thought she and Shale’s boy... Cricket...” 

“Oh, they are,” Venka nodded. “But they also share. Constantly.” 

Grayling fought back a laugh. “A daughter of yours, Venka? And you, Zhantee?” He shook his head. “Hard to imagine. I still think of her as a little cub, howling for milk at the top of her lungs. Now look at her – stalking prey like Coppersky.” 

A tremor laced the ground, and the pebbles littering the sandy soil skipped. Venka shuddered. “I do not like earthquakes,” she murmured. “They summon memories... my oldest nightmare...” she leaned her head on Zhantee’s shoulder. “Thunder... crashing outside... I see with an infant’s eyes... my tiny hammock rocks wildly, bits of clay and wood rain down on me... strike me...” 

Zhantee stroked a lock of her hair idly. “Mm, I remember that tremor. You and Sunstream were only a few eights-of-days old. The fresh coat of clay inside your parents’ hut wasn’t completely dried. It wasn’t a bad quake, really. Didn’t even set the zwoots off. But the hut took a fair bit of damage.” 

“I remember... screaming... crying for my very life. And then a remember an arm around me, someone lifting me up, a warm shoulder – warm, bare flesh...” she smiled. “I remember Father’s voice. And yet... every time I have that nightmare, I forget that he will come and rescue me, and I am as frightened as ever.” 

“I remember when he rushed you to Rain for a healing,” Grayling said. “You had already stopped crying and were happily sucking your thumb. Rayek was having a fit of foaming sickness, I swear, screaming at Rain to heal your bruises and the little scratch on your knee. Ah... I miss those days, Ven.” 

She smiled. “You haven’t called me that in ages, uncle.” 

“Oh, those were good days... when you and Sunstream were just cubs, when we never had to worry about anything more pressing than the night’s hunt. Now... everything is so complicated.” 

“A lot has changed since then,” Venka agreed. “But it’s a pleasant sort of complication, by and large. The Palace... five tribes united... cubs grown to adulthood and new cubs to take their place. And I cannot wait to meet my new cousin.” 

“I know,” Grayling grinned. “Two years... it seems an eternity. It... Timmain.” 

“Timmain?” Zhantee asked. 

Grayling pointed. A lone figure perched on the Horn of the Bridge of Destiny, her burnt-orange gown blowing in the wind. 

“What’s she doing?” Grayling asked. 

“Patrolling,” said Venka. “Is that not what a good wolf does?” 

“How do... accept her? This High One more wolf than elf?” 

“You have been in Sorrow’s End too long if you have to ask. Timmain is... Timmain. She wears many skins, and none of them are her own. She constantly seeks new experiences, yet nothing leaves her sated for long. She is charged to remember... just as Savah is... yet while Savah wears her cloak proudly, Timmain seems forever burdened by it. Sometimes... I think out of all the elves that have ever lived, Timmain understands herself with the greatest clarity. And sometimes I think out of all the elves that have ever lived, Timmain is the loneliest.” 

Grayling turned his gaze back to the Bridge of Destiny. Timmain was gone. 

“Well, sweet lifemate,” Venka got to her feet. “I do believe we promised Thamia and Moren that we would help them husk their grain and take it to Behtia’s mill. We can’t have your mother catching us tarrying.” 

“Perish the thought,” Zhantee sighed, flashing a crooked smile. “Tass! Tass. Your grandparents are waiting for us.” 

Tass heaved a sigh and blew a sharp breath of air up into her ragged bangs. “Coming.” She turned, batted her long eyelashes for Shashen and pushed him away with a coy little hand to his bare chest. Grayling sniffed. She caught on to Sun maidens’ ways quickly. All dainty and delicate as she skipped away to join her parents, she was the antithesis of the loud, dreamberry-stained lass he remembered on his last visit to the Great Holt. 

He heard the frantic sound of bare feet slapping on sand-covered rock. His wolf-blood removed many years ago, his hearing was still keen enough to estimate the runner’s weight at something most than the typical Sun Folk. Sure enough, as he turned he saw Timmain come running into the village, her hair wild about her face, the hems of her moth-fabric gown stained with sand and dust. 

“What is it, Timmain?” 

“He’s here!” 

“Who?” 

“The evil!” She spun around, scanning the air. “He’s seen me! But he can’t hide! I’d recognize that scent anywhere!” 

She turned and stalked for the great hut at the center of the village. “Timmain!” Grayling called, running after her. One great stride of her long legs was equal to two of his paces. 

She reached the door of Savah’s hut and swept the beaded curtains back, ignoring the jangling sound of clay beads. Inside, Savah sat on her high-backed throne, her eyes closed, her fingers tented at her lips. The clearstone window behind her pulsed with light. 

A primal snarl rose in Timmain’s throat. “You! What have you come for?” 

“Timmain, what is it?” Grayling demanded. 

The light behind Savah’s throne died. Savah slowly opened her eyes. “Timmain,” she spoke calmly. The High One was a ball of tension. Her shoulders rose and fell as she heaved frantic breaths. Her face was contorted with rage. 

“What troubles you, Mother?” Savah asked. 

“He was here! In this very room! With you!” 

“Who?” Grayling barked. 

“Haken.” She ground the name out through clenched teeth. 

Savah blinked calmly and gave a faint incline of her head. 

* * * 

The ruling council of Sorrow’s End was hastily assembled inside Savah’s meditation chamber. Sun-Toucher and Leetah stood on one side of the throne, Scouter hovering at Leetah’s side as he always did, despite his lack of authority in council matters. Ahdri, Windkin and Grayling stood on the other side, while Timmain paced restlessly in the corner, next to the pedastal that held the Little Palace. Venka and Zhantee came in a few moments later, out of breath. 

“I’ve been stalking a presence for the greater part of a moon,” Timmain growled. “An elusive scent I once knew well. The years have dulled the memory, but I will never forget. I have tasted his blood, and he is forever a part of me. He was here! Haken.” 

“Haken... Winnowill’s father, Haken?” Scouter demanded. 

“Is there any other?” Windkin muttered under his breath. 

“I thought Haken disappeared into the far eastern lands?” Leetah asked. “After that... that battle Sunstream waged with him in the Palace.” 

“He did,” Venka said. “And we have not heard from him since.” 

“Have you... tracked him... or whatever in the Scroll of Colors?” Leetah asked. 

Venka shook her head. “He cannot be found easily in the Scroll. And to be honest... we did not look hard for him. He left us in peace, and as long as he did not threaten us we felt no reason to hunt for him. Timmain, you agreed with us.” 

“Yes, yes I did,” Timmain nodded. “But... now... his spirit was here in this very room! Only my presence chased him away.” 

“Did he try to hurt you, Mother of Memory?” Sun-Toucher asked. 

“Did he try to steal your very spirit as Winnowill did?” Leetah pressed. 

“I am afraid you have all misunderstood,” Savah said calmly. “Haken did not try to abduct my spirit. He and I were communing on the astral plane, nothing more. There was no attack, simply a spirit’s conversation.” 

“Conversation?” Scouter stiffened. 

“Conversation?” Timmain rounded on Savah. Her eyes widened. “You! This is why I’ve sensed his spirit hovering over this place. He was not stalking us – he was speaking with you.” 

“Savah, how long have you been in contact with Haken?” Venka asked. 

“The greater part of a year now.” 

“A year?” Grayling stammered. 

“A year?!” Scouter exclaimed. “A year you’ve been inviting the father of the Black Snake into our very midst! What if he decided to attack us? What if he decided to finish what his dearest daughter started? High Ones, Savah, have you forgotten what Winnowill did to the Wolfriders – what she did to you?” 

“I assure you, Scouter, I have not,” Savah said coolly. “But Haken is not Winnowill. As Venka said, he left in peace those many years ago when she encountered him – when Sunstream’s powers linked us all in one moment of pure thought. And he has come to me in peace, extending a hand of love.” 

“Love?” Grayling wrinkled his nose. “From the father of the Loveless One herself?” 

“You forget – my great-grandmother was his firstborn child. His blood flows in the veins of every Sun Folk. He is family.” 

“Where is he?” Timmain demanded. 

“Why would you know, High One? So you could pursue him?” 

Timmain started. “No... no. My battle with Haken is over. But his heart is ever inclined towards deadly ambition. Even in peace he may represent a grave threat to us all.” 

“He is close by,” Savah said. “Some two eights-of-days travel away – as the hawk flies.” 

“Two eights...” Grayling murmured. “He’s in the World’s Spine.” 

“Great Sun!” Ahdri said. “Is... are Haken and the humans somehow connected?” 

“Aye...” Scouter nodded. “Who’s to say they aren’t? The Gliders at Blue Mountain kept human pets.” 

“I can assure you,” Savah said, “Haken has nothing to do with the humans’ advance into the desert. In fact, Haken is most concerned with this new development. And he wishes to come visit Sorrow’s End to aid us, if he can.” 

Grayling frowned. Another High One... a High One ready to help them find a solution, rather than a High One who simply ran through the hills like a wild animal. It was a tantalizing thought. But Grayling remembered well that moment when his nephew Sunstream united them in thought and deed – a moment when fear and rage fought against hope and light. Haken’s rage had been formidable, as had his powers. Had time soothed his temper, or did that anger still hide under the surface? 

What kind of a creature was Haken to inspire such terror in the Mother of the Wolfriders? 

“He cannot – must not come to Sorrow’s End!” Leetah cried. “I remember watching helpless as your body wasted away, Mother of Memory, as Winnowill held your soul captive. No, the father of the Black Snake must not come here to infect our sanctuary.” 

“Savah,” Venka said calmly, “why did you not tell us when Haken first contacted you?” 

“Because I anticipated this... uproar, my child. And because the words of a grandfather and grandchild are not meant to be shared openly.” 

“And when did you plan on telling us about Haken’s... request?” 

“I had hoped to gently reveal it, piece by piece, just as Haken revealed it to me. But it seems we both underestimated Timmain’s vigilance.” 

**Venka,** Grayling locksent. **What do you make of all this?** 

**I am not sure, uncle. I do not think the Mother of Memory could lie to us if she wished it. But I cannot simply trust that Haken has been “going out” to her out of... a desire for peace. The Haken I met is manipulative, ambitious, and utterly ruthless. There is more to his contact with Savah, and much more to his desire to visit Sorrow’s End.** 

“Haken cannot come here,” Ahdri agreed. “The village is endangered already.” 

“He would offer his aid.” 

“Forgive me, Mother of Memory, but how can you trust a word he says?” 

“Why should I not? Because he sired Winnowill?” 

“Because he was twice willing to kill his own kind in order to take over the Palace,” Venka said. “Because when we encountered him at the fallen Blue Mountain, he considered us all expendable pawns in his scheme to steal the Palace’s power. That the encounter ended without bloodshed does not absolve Haken of guilt. Where it not for my brother, we would have all perished by his hand.” 

“I can only reply that I sense no malice in his sendings. He is lonely, and sincere in his desire to reunite with his own kind.” 

“Four centuries past he wanted nothing to do with the world – with any elves, save his lost lifemate,” Venka said. 

“Perhaps regaining what was lost has changed his outlook,” Savah said. 

Timmain shivered. “Chani... yes, I could imagine her hand in this...” 

Grayling took a deep breath. “Savah... you are Mother of Memory, and you are our leader. If you would invite Haken here, even against our wishes, that is your decision, and we will abide by it.” 

“Child, you know I would never endanger this village.” 

**I need your guidance again,** he locksent to his niece. 

**Timmain has forced the truth out of Savah, and now the Mother of Memory is intent on seeing this through.** 

**Can we trust her, or has this High One... done something to her?** 

**I sense no influence over her. Nothing of magic, at least.** 

“You should know that we have never denied any elf welcome in Sorrow’s End, and that I do not intent to break that tradition,” Savah said. Her voice was oddly cool. 

“We trust your judgement, Mother of Memory,” Sun-Toucher said. “As we always have.” 

“Mother of Memory, please!” Leetah begged. 

“Haken cannot come here!” Scouter shouted. 

Grayling took a deep breath. “He’s right, Savah. We can’t simply invite him to come here and wait for... well, for what could be anything from a friendly greeting to an attack. No... I think it would be best if the Jackwolf Riders go out to meet Haken and escort him back to Sorrow’s End... as an honoured guest.” 

Leetah, Scouter and Ahdri stared at Grayling in horror. Windkin and Zhantee looked dubious. Timmain turned her face into the corner in defeat. Savah smiled tremulously. 

Again Grayling glanced at Venka. She nodded. 

He swallowed tightly. He had just commited himself to bring home the Father of the Sun Folk – and an elf far more dangerous than all the humans tribes put together.


	2. The Journey South

Grayling chose his riders carefully. He and Ahdri would ride at the head of pack as the leading representatives of Sorrow’s End. Sust and Coppersky, the tuftcat riders, would be the hunters and warriors, should they be forced to do battle. Windkin would serve as scout. Venka and Tass would provide shielding from all threats, physical and magical. Timmain would be their guide, taking them into the unexplored mountains of the World’s Spine. 

“I wish I could come with you,” Zhantee lamented as he embraced his lifemate and daughter farewell. 

“Shh, sweet lifemate,” Venka soothed. “Tass can protect us from danger. But your shield may be needed here.” 

“You’re the huntleader until I return,” Grayling told Wing. “Don’t take any action against the humans unless they’re at our very walls.” 

Alekah presented Grayling with a warm cotton blanket freshly woven on her loom. “Something to keep you warm on your travels. Come back in one piece, hm? I don’t want our cub to only know his father through Hansha’s stories – we all know how he exaggerates.” 

Hansha shot her a withering glare. 

Grayling gave her a hug, then turned to Hansha and Jari. “I don’t need to tell you two to make sure she takes care of herself.” 

Jari smiled. “No, you don’t.” 

Grayling clasped hands with Jari, then drifted off with Hansha to share a more intimate farewell. 

Timmain stood by the pack-zwoot, waiting nervously. Occasionally one of the tuftcats walked past her, and she growled under her breath. The wolf in her was rising with each passing day. Petalwing hummed to her and stroked her long hair, to no avail. 

“Now, the cats won’t be happy now that we’re taking Stubtail and Stealth away from the pride,” Coppersky instructed Wing. “But I want them here to help you defend the village. Don’t take any scat from them. If any of them start picking fights with the jackwolves, get in there and give them a beating over the muzzle. Don’t worry,” he said when Wing paled. “These aren’t mountain lions – Sust and I have raised every single one by hand. They even smell a bit like wolves these days.” 

Savah put a hand on Venka’s shoulder. “Please, whatever happens, approach him with an open mind. You know Haken. You know there is more than hate in him.” 

Venka nodded. “Do not fear, Savah.” 

“He is the father of us all. The village needs him now.” 

Venka wondered at her words. Savah had always maintained a great calm in the face of this new upheaval. 

They set out at sundown, as was safest for desert travel. The stars and the moons lit the way across gravel and sand as the night wore on and Smoking Mountain grew steadily larger on the horizon. Grayling led the pack astride his jackwolf. Venka followed closely on her wolf. Tass and Ahdri rode on the zwoot together while Sust and Coppersky flanked the part on cat-back. Windkin soared overhead, held aloft by his glider of wrapstuff and branches. Timmain strode purposefully on foot, keeping up with the party. 

“Aren’t you tired, High One?” Tass called from atop the zwoot as night turned to dawn. “I could ride behind mother on Softpaws if you want a rest.” 

“This is nothing, child,” Timmain replied. “I could keep double this pace for days on end.” 

“Augh,” Tass complained as she shifted in the saddle. “Fat zwoots. My muscles are screaming. Oh... I wish I had a wolf-friend again.” 

“You hardly ever rode Dawnsmoke,” Venka pointed out. 

“Well, you don’t need to ride in the rainforest,” Tass shot back. “Everything you need is right in front of you, or just down the river.” 

“Well, we cannot take a canoe into the World’s Spine, I fear,” Venka said. 

“We need some great hawks or something,” Tass decided after several minutes of silence. “We need the Palace. Why couldn’t we just take the Palace?” 

Grayling chuckled. So did Sust and Coppersky. “Spoiled little cub,” Sust muttered. 

“We cannot trust Haken not to be lured to violence by the Palace’s call,” Venka reminded her. “And sometimes, Tass, the easiest, swiftest way is not the best way.” 

Tass pulled a face at her mother’s back. 

They rested at mid-morning, not too far from the camp the Riders had made centuries before, when Smoking Mountain had awakened. Ahdri shaped the rocks into a cool dome shading them from the afternoon heat. At dusk they awoke. Timmain was gone. Only a pile of dull orange moth-fabric and a pair of sandals remained. 

“Oh, scat – now where’s she gone?” Sust demanded. 

Grayling gave a nod of the head. A new jackwolf was wrestling with Grayling’s Haze and Venka’s Softpaws. 

“Oh...” Sust murmured. 

“Mother-mother highthing is growler-mother highthing?” Petalwing frowned. 

The jackwolf saw their bemused faces and opened her mouth wide in a panting grin. 

* * * 

After two days of travel, Smoking Mountain fell behind them, and they entered the maze of canyons and mesas that made up the foothills of the World’s Spine. Great sandstone peaks rose along the western horizon. Windkin scouted high overhead, sometimes with Ahdri in tow, sending directions for the swiftest route through the rocks. 

“Tell me everything about Haken,” Grayling asked Venka as they ate their evening meal on a rocky plateau. The sky was painted deep blues and roses as the first stars began to shine. Behind them they could hear the soft roars of the two tuftcats as they settled down to cat-nap. To the southwest the highest peaks of the World’s Spine were like jagged wolf’s teeth. 

“Haken is... a mystery. A contradiction. He is the only other surviving Firstcomer, and he possesses all the powers of the ancients. Yet if one counted the years he has been awake and aware on this world, he would be counted as young as Ahdri. I do not know how old he was when the Firstcomers crashed here – only that he was the last child born on our ancestors’ homeworld. In many ways, I think Timmain regards him as a child – a dangerous, headstrong youth. He... he believes his ambitions are pure. Even at his most violent, when he was willing to kill us in the Palace, he believed his actions were entirely reasonable. He is convinced he knows what is best for all our kind, and he has nothing but scorn for those who oppose him.” She smiled softly. “For those who do not listen to his words... or worse, those who hear but do not agree... well, they are beyond redemption.” 

“Why do you smile?” 

“He reminds me of someone...” 

Grayling chuckled. “Best not tell him.” 

“Actually, my father quite admires Haken. And... if Timmain will forgive me, I too can see his alluring qualities. Such conviction in a leader is admirable.” 

“Any chief who claims to know everything should be challenged,” Grayling growled under his breath. 

“Bearclaw?” 

He nodded. 

Venka rubbed his arm. “Bearclaw lost his chief’s lock because he could not longer inspire trust in those who loved him, yes? From what I’ve heard from Sunstream and Aurek, Haken had the undying love and trust of all who followed him until the day he abandoned them. Now, Haken is a very persuasive creature, and like Winnowill he is skilled in all forms of manipulation. But I cannot help but think that there was something else... something more powerful, that could inspire such trust in his followers.” She looked up at the stars. “Haken nearly destroyed our tribe’s beginnings in his war with Timmain. And he would have killed my brother and I, our lifemates and our friends... without a moment’s hesitation. And yet he was – is – the father of both Sun Folk and Gliders. And in a way, his war with Timmain convinced her to further her bond with this world... so perhaps we Wolfriders owe him a debt of thanks as well.” 

“What do you think he’ll want of us... when we find him?” 

“I saw Haken in his darkest rage... in his deepest despair. Yet Sunstream saw him in his greatest joy. I cannot beginning to imagine how we will meet him this time.” 

* * * 

The march south continued, and soon the days of travel numbered eight. It soon became clear that “as the hawk flies” would do them little good. The salt pans and slot canyons slowed their march. So did the winds that blew between the peaks. At their rate of travel, Windkin and Grayling guessed it would be nearly a month before they reached Haken’s stronghold. Timmain continued to move mostly in jackwolf form, though she occasionally took on elfin form again, almost as if to remind herself who she really was. 

They found a cluster of white human bones, long since scattered by scavengers, on the tenth day of travel. “I wonder if the Hoan-G’Tay-Sho passed this way on their journey south?” Windkin mused. Yet if the humans had once travelled between the mountain peaks, they had long since moved on, for the elves found no further remains in the sand. 

The mountains surrounded them now, and they moved through barren river canyons, following Ahdri’s water-sense. Every time they stopped to rest she burrowed through the rock with her shaper’s magic and summoned a long-dormant spring. Sust and Coppersky hunted with their tuftcats for large beasts to feed the bond-beasts, while Timmain often caught small animals for the elves to share. Ravvits and bristle-boars formed the majority of their diet, although one day Sust and Coppersky brought down a strange hoofed beast with great curving horns. 

As Windkin and Ahdri kept their course parallel with the ancient riverbed, so Timmain kept them travelling towards the faint psychic presence of her ancient rival. Every day when they stopped to sleep Timmain declined to rest, but patrolled about camp, her ears up for danger. 

“Doesn’t she ever sleep?” Coppersky moaned. 

“High Ones don’t need to,” Tass replied. “Actually, Timmain says elves don’t really need to either, if they train properly, but we’ve gotten so used to it that it’s a hard habit to break.” 

“One I don’t plan on breaking.” 

“Mm, maintaining such perfection must be exhaustion,” Tass teased. 

“Very,” Coppersky shot back archly. 

On the fourteenth day they crossed a great sandy plateau so vast it took them a whole day to reach the hills on the other side. Freezing winds blasted down from the gnarled sandstone peaks, driving the sand into stinging flurries. Finally they had to abandon their march and seek shelter in the rocks. The sandstorm blew for a night and a morning, and both mounts and riders took a grateful rest while waiting for the sky to clear. 

By the twentieth day they descended into a long meandering river canyon, its steep sides rising nearly twice the height of the Bridge of Destiny. A trickle of water still flowed along the bottom. 

On the twenty-third day they had abandoned the canyons to climb through unforgiving gulches and plateaus. Flat land seemed a thing of the past – instead they faced a seemingly endless landscape of rolling gravel and sharp cliffs. They camped on a small spot of table rock, surrounded by razor sharp spires of sandstone. “It almost looks rockshaped,” Sust murmured. 

“No,” Ahdri touched the rock. “No, endless time is the only shaper here.” 

The large jackwolf wove smoothly among the rocks, bearing a fat hare. She reached the flat campsite and set down the ravvit before looking up to grin at the Riders. A veil of golden light wreathed the animal, and she became elf before their eyes. The smile remained on her lips. 

“A fine kill, Timmain,” Venka praised. 

“It put up a brave fight.” Timmain stood and her hair cascaded over her bare limbs. “We should honour its spirit and waste nothing of its body.” 

Coppersky walked up to her, bearing her folded dress in his hands. He kept his eyes pointedly averted. “Your clothes, High One.” 

Timmain looked at him askance. “Does my nakedness offend you, child? You did not mind it when I was a jackwolf.” 

Coppersky heaved a sigh, still not looking at her. “I think clothing is one of those things that separates elves from beasts.” 

“Ah, the trappings of culture, yes. The affectations of... what is that word? – civilization.” 

“Exactly. Civilization hard won.” 

“Yet we are all beasts, at the core. The longtooth of the forest or the stalking bird of the plains does not care that you are a civilized beast.” 

“I’d like to see a stalking bird build a fire,” Coppersky muttered. 

“Ah, but humans build fires? Are you saying they are ‘civilized’, and therefore elevated, as we are, above the beasts?” 

Coppersky sneered. 

“Therein lies the peril in elevating yourself above the natural way of things,” Timmain said calmly. She turned away, while Coppersky continued to growl under his breath. 

“The wheel!” he shouted to her back, triumphant. “Let’s see a human build a wheel!” 

She looked back over her shoulder. “Trolls build wheels.” 

“Aye, and trolls wear clothes too.” 

“Enough, you two,” Grayling counselled. “Let’s cook that ravvit and lie down for a sleep. The sun’s getting too high for this growling.” 

**Spoiler,** Sust’s chuckle resounded in his head. 

They ate, and slept. When Grayling awoke it was nearing sundown. Petalwing was humming a faint little song to itself, not quite loud enough to wake the others. Timmain was sitting up, still in elf form but as alert as any wolf. Grayling got up and moved over to her side. 

“I have never been in a desert before,” Timmain said. “No... that’s not true. I have known deserts before... on other worlds. But not this desert, on this world. Strange... the different melodies produced by sand and rock.” 

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Grayling smiled. “The golds and red of the setting Daystar – more vivid that any death-sleep in the trees. I was born in the forests of the Father Tree. My youth was of green-growing places and abundant water. But I’ve come to love this place... the brightness of the sun, the vastness of land and sky.” 

“I find it... hard... to be at peace here, in this form. It’s easier to become a jackwolf, to let my blood become that of a desert creature.” 

“Do you ever find peace in this form?” Grayling asked. 

Timmain looked at him. 

“Your eyes... they shine so brightly when you are a jackwolf. I see a joyful creature when I look at you in wolf form. But when you are a High One... I see confusion, uncertainty.” 

“Oh, I envy you, my many-times grandchild. You who were born to one world, in one skin. My kind.... Long ago, we learned to shape our bodies into any form we desired, and to set our spirits free at any whim. We could even build new shells to house our spirits if the old one failed. We never died. For ages untold we were removed from the natural order. We knew every skin, and we knew no skin. We were children of infinity, yet we belonged nowhere. No until the crash brought us here... to this world of death and new life – did we find a true home. And not until I took on the skin of a wolf did I learn how to sing.” 

“Then why become elf again?” 

“For my children. For the future. And to honour a vow I took long ago, when I became a member of the Circle of Nine, a navigator of our great ship. I am Timmain, and it is my purpose to remember... everything.” 

“And to be a wolf is to embrace the Now.” 

Timmain nodded. 

“But can you not take joy in what your children have done?” 

“Oh, I do.” 

“Then why does sadness weigh on you?” 

“Because the joy does not – cannot, should not – erase the pain. For pain teaches us wisdom, helps us grow. Without it, no living thing aware of itself, can be called whole. The misguided hide from pain, trying to cover it, trying to banish it – even by inflicting it on others. Humans do so. So did Haken. Perhaps he will do again. But I must remember my pain – cherish it. For how else can I learn to become more than I am?” 

Grayling had nothing to say, so he simply hung his head pensively. It was hard to argue with such words, yet he could not shake the feeling that it was wrong to keep an old wound open when a faded scar would suffice. 

Timmain stiffened. “Can you smell it?” 

Grayling sniffed the air. “No. I... I had the healer remove my wolf-blood years ago,” he said, somewhat sheepishly. 

“Like many of the tribe now,” Timmain murmured. She set her teeth. “A mountain lion. Above us, atop that cliff face. It has been following us for the better part of a day.” 

“Should we marshall the hunt?” 

“No. No, there is no threat. It is... simply curious.” 

“As you say, Timmain,” Grayling got to his feet. “Well, we’d better get moving if we want to cover any ground tonight.” 

Timmain rose as well. But her eyes lingered on the cliff face. “Strange. I know it is simply the dance of life and death. Yet, in this skin... knowing I am being watched by another predator... I feel... nervous.” 

* * * 

On the twenty-ninth day they sensed they were nearing the end of their quest. Trees were beginning to grow in the rocky soil – scraggly little trees bearing a sour fruit that the elves could not stomach but their zwoot enjoyed immensely. Windkin abandoned his wrapstuff glider to float alongside his fellow travellers, sharing his tales of exploits in the mountains. “There’s nothing for days of travel around,” he explained. “Far to the east the mountain drop off onto fertile plains by the sea. But up here the air is too thin. Oh, there’s lots of game in these hills. Rock-climbing deer and crescent-horns like we caught the other day. But no rivers, no plains, no sand. Just rock.” 

“There is much water here,” Ahdri corrected. “All just beneath the rocks. I can feel it everywhere.” 

“What sweet little plants,” Tass giggled as they approached a cluster of fuzzy domes not unlike squatneedles. Great fleshy lobes were tipped with what appeared to be soft fur. 

“Be careful!” Windkin shot out and caught her hand before she could venture too close. “I call them cholla. You don’t want to touch them.” 

“Why not?” Tass frowned. 

Windkin snatched one of the sour figs from the small tree that bloomed nearby and tossed it at the cholla plant. The fig impaled itself on countless tiny needles. The plant shivered, and the fleshy lobes nearby seemed to fold inward, further spearing the fruit. 

Tass whistled low. So did Sust. 

“Fighting pricker-bush,” Petalwing murmured. 

The cholla bushes grew more abundant as they continued up the gravel pan. Timmain travelled alongside the party in elf form now, and she took care to gird her gown high about her calves to keep from snagging the hem on the prickly plants that covered the ground. Giant bats took to the skies as dust fell over the mountains. Windkin grinned and abandoned the party to fly alongside them. Ahdri dug a small hole in the gravel, then extended her rockshaping powers into the rocky soil. A long shaft bore down through the rock until the fresh scent of water rose up to greet them. Tass gratefully dropped the little bucket down the hole, then hauled it back out by its rope. Soon all their waterskins were filled again. 

They rested for a time as night descended on the mountains. Grayling prowled about the periphery of camp, alert to any sounds and smells that might intrude. A loud noise that made him jump turned out to be nothing but Coppersky’s cat Stealth snoring. Grayling laughed with relief. The cat did not live up to her name. 

Coppersky and Sust were building a bonfire, despite the risk, and the fire cast distorted shadows over the rocks. Grayling caught sight of something shining in the light as he turned back towards their camp. A mountain lion’s golden eyes were glowing in the darkness. 

Grayling drew his atlatl and nocked a dart. But the lion rose up from its hiding place and calmly strode away from camp, all disdainful grace. Perhaps it decided the tuftcats were rival lions and did not want to press its luck. 

By high-moon they continued on their march along a meandering gravel hillside. Great sandstone towers rose up out of the ground around them. Cliffs were eroded in great wave patterns. The cholla and squatneedle were everywhere, barring their way. Only when Windkin flew up above them was he able to scout a path for them by moonlight. 

**It’s a sea of needle-mounds,** he sent. **And strange trees.** 

The trees were indeed unusual, great winding arches of hard smooth wood, sprouting tufts of grass and sharp thorns. They seemed a merging of Sorrow’s End’s cloud-trees and some cruel stricker-plant. “Great Sun,” Venka breathed as she touched one. 

“What is it, Mother?” 

“My ‘magic-feeling’ is running rampant. These trees, and the needle-mounds. They’ve all been shaped. The way Redlance used to shape the thorns at Thorny Mountain to keep wandering humans and bear at bay.” 

The sun began to rise as they continued to navigate their way through the barriers of thorny trees and needle-mounds. Now they hugged the side of great cliff-face with sheer walls. “It reminds me of the great rocks at the Tunnel of Golden Light,” Grayling said. “All those years ago...” 

“Equally impenetrable,” Venka murmured. 

“Hey, Windkin,” Sust called. “You see anything on the other side of these bluffs?” 

Windkin rose into the air. **More rocks. And a great mountain peak jutting up like a spire. And... I think I might see a clearing... a plateau between the rocks. Can’t tell. I can go higher if you like?** 

Ahdri ran her hand along the rocks. “These have been shaped too... strengthened.” 

“Whew... it’s getting pretty hot now,” Sust rubbed the back of his neck, then hitched up the hood on his tuftcat-pelt cloak. “We going to stop for a breather soon?” 

“We can’t stop,” Timmain said. “We are too close. He’s here... somewhere behind these rocks.” 

“Well, I can try to scout over these bluffs,” Windkin volunteered again, as he swept overhead. 

“Petalwing go too! Petalwing take care of busyhead flyhighthing.” 

“Let’s not become separated,” Venka said. “Timmain is right. We are too close to the source of this.” 

Ahdri walked with one hand brushing the rocks. “All of this bears the mark of a rockshaper. An old one. I–” she stepped back abruptly. The sheer wall shifted and melted, pulling away to reveal a door and a tunnel leading into the cliff-face. 

“Oooh... walk-through-rock place,” Petalwing whistled. 

“Good way, Ahdri,” Coppersky licked his lips. “There’s our way in.” 

“I... I didn’t do anything!” 

“Haken...” Timmain whispered. 

Coppersky drew his dagger. So did Venka. Grayling unshouldered his atlatl. 

“What do we do?” Tass asked. “Do we go in?” 

“We seem to have little choice,” Venka replied. 

“Aye, we’ll go in,” Grayling decided. “Sust, Coppersky. Take up the rear. Tass and Ahdri, get in the middle on the zwoot. We go in braced for trouble.” 

Climbing back astride Haze, Grayling led the way in. Petalwing buzzed about his head nervously. Timmain followed close behind on foot, the others keeping close behind the High One. The tunnel was long and dark, never any wider than two elves’ shoulder-spans. It did not twist or turn, but bored straight through the rock. At length light began to slant through the ceiling, which rose high above the elves. The tunnel became instead a deep crevasse in the rock. Windkin flew overhead, just below the winding faultline that let in the daylight. 

The passageway grew wider, taller. The walls were cool and fresh-smelling, in contrast to the dusty heat of the outside world. Hardy plants thrived in the cracks in the rock. 

“It reminds me of our passage between the Great Rocks, when Skywise and Sunstream led us out of Sorrow’s End to find Mother and Rayek,” Venka breathed. 

“The echoes here are incredible!” Tass exclaimed, and she laughed at the way her voice bounced off the wall. 

“Quiet!” Coppersky hissed. “You want our enemies to hear us coming?” 

Tass laughed again. “You think he doesn’t already know? Hey, Haken!” she shouted to the walls. “You watch out, old one! The Wolfriders are coming!” 

“By Yurek,” Coppersky moaned. 

“Tass,” Venka warned. “This is no game.” 

“I smell water,” Ahdri whispered. 

“I hear water,” Timmain corrected. 

They passed under a great sandstone arch and the walls of the narrow passageway peeled back. Now sunlight flooded in, and they squinted at the sudden intrusion of the Daystar. They marched up an incline, towards two great bluffs that guarded a passageway as wide as two zwoots side-by-side. 

Weapons bared, they crossed the threshold at the sandstone gate. 

They stepped into the great valley Windkin had spotted from above, and their jaws dropped. 

A huge plain, easily three times the size of Sorrow’s End, stretched out to meet the great cliffs that hemmed it in. The ground was not sand, but a soft brown soil, from which countless reeds and grasses sprouted. Hugging the far right-hand side of the valley was the water Ahdri had sensed, a great pool of clear water as blue as the sky. Surrounding the pool, palm trees and water reeds flourished. And feeding the pool was a tall waterfall that poured out of the great spire of rock that stood at the head of the valley. 

They hastened to the water’s edge. Grayling tasted a handful of water and found it pure and sweet. Small fish could just be seen hiding in the underwater reeds at the water’s edge. Despite the constant flow from the waterfall the pool did not overflow into a river. “There must be an underground outflow,” Ahdri said. “I’d wager a spring somewhere in the rocks is welling up the water for that waterfall.” 

Grayling looked up at the mountain peak overlooking the valley. Timmain shuddered. “He’s waiting for us.” 

“How do we get up there?” Tass asked. 

“Well, how do you like that?” Sust whistled. “Look over there, against the far wall.” 

They squinted as they gazed across the plain. Little cracks and wrinkles in the sandstone was all they could make out. 

“Are you all blind?” Sust laughed. 

“They’re steps,” Coppersky said. 

“Stairs...” Timmain whispered. “He’s planned everything well.” 

They crossed the grassy plain to the far cliff wall. Sure enough, great steps had been shaped out of the rock. The jackwolves, tuftcats and zwoot they left below, to guard them from a rear ambush. Then Grayling and Timmain led the way up the stairs. The path took them under the shadow of the mountain, and then into the mountain itself, through an archway far too symmetrical to be the result of nature. They switchbacked up the side of the mountain, sometimes in sunlight, sometimes behind rock. Clearstone panels in the walls illuminated their way when the stairs took them inside. 

Out of breath, the elves finally emerged into a large room shaped out of the heart of the beige rock. It was separated into two levels by six wide steps that connected the entryway from the landing above. Great pillars of stone to the right of the landing created a peristyle overlooking the lower level. A skylight of clearstone let in the bright morning sun; they had reached the summit of the peak. 

“Incredible,” Venka breathed, scanning the perfectly smooth walls. “Like Blue Mountain in its infancy, perhaps.” 

Tass let out a gasp. So did Timmain. Venka and the others turned back to the landing above them. 

Haken stood at the top of the steps. 

He was clad in white trousers and kilt; a white cloak fell over his shoulders, draped to conceal his maimed left arm. He glared down at them, his golden eyes glowing under the shadows cast by his long black hair. 

“You’re late,” he pronounced. “I expected you a full day sooner.” 

“Oooooh, Petalwing remembers lord-much highthing,” Petalwing whispered, hiding behind Timmain’s long hair. 

“Haken,” Timmain spoke, forcing her voice level. 

“Timmain. Did we not decide between us both that if we ever met again, one of would die?” 

“Perhaps you decided. I never did.” 

“I owe you much, Timmain,” he smiled cruelly, flexing what remained of his left arm under his cloak. “I really should repay my debt to you.” 

“We did not come here to fight you,” Grayling said. 

“And why did you come, young one? To teach me the error of my ways – forcefully? To mold me into a more pleasant shape – a tame High One, hmm?” He chuckled softly. 

Ahdri stepped forward. “Haken. I am Ahdri, the Daughter of Memory.” 

Haken gave her something approximating a gallant nod. “Savah spoke often of you. But your companions... I smell the rank odour of dogs about them. Ah, I should have known,” he laughed cruelly. “I extend friendship to the Sun Folk, and instead I find Wolfriders at my door! The children of Timmain, who cannot help but stick their dirty little muzzles where it does not concern them!” 

“We may ride wolves, Haken, but we are all Sun Folk too, by bonds of blood and lifemating,” Venka said, stepping forward. “And so we have come as envoys of Sorrow’s End.” 

“You!” Haken pointed a finger at her. “Ohh... I remember you. We met at Blue Mountain. Yes, the beauty with the sending shields. Well, you caught me by surprise last time, I’ll admit. But I hope you’ve not come back for a rematch.” 

Venka stiffened. But before she could act, Tass leapt in front of her. “You lay one hand – one spirit hand – on my mother, and I swear I’ll–” 

“Who is this little sprat?” Haken laughed. Tass flushed at the taunt, as she always did when reminded she was a full half-head shorter than her mother. 

“Tass!” she replied, summoning all her bravado. “And if you thought my mother could knock you senseless, just wait until you try me!” 

“Is that an invitation, infant?” Haken raised his hand threateningly and took a step down towards her. 

“Haken!” a sharp voice filled the room, and Haken froze in his tracks. All eyes turned to the far corner of the landing as another white-robed elf appeared. 

A soft gasp escaped the travellers. The newcomer was tall as Timmain, equally slender and long-limbed. Yet where Timmain was all angles, she was sinuous curves and leonine grace. Her long blond hair cascaded down her back, almost to her knees. Her golden eyes were ageless as Timmain’s, but her face was softer, rounder, like a polished oval of alabaster. A black Preserver flitted about her head, before settling down to rest on Haken’s shoulder. 

“Please, my lord,” she spoke anew, and her voice was warm and sweet as honey. “It does not become a host to quarrel with his guests.” 

Haken turned to gaze up at her with lovestruck eyes. She held out her hand to him and he took it in his. “Fortunately for you,” he addressed the travellers, his eyes never leaving his lifemate’s face, “my lady holds sway over my heart.” He raised her hand to his lips. She smiled prettily as she stepped down to join him on the fifth step. 

“Chani...” Timmain whispered. 

Chani turned, looked down at the travellers. “Welcome to our oasis. We trust you will enjoy your stay with us.” Her gaze fell on the High One. “Timmain. You’re still alive.” 

She flinched. “Are you so disappointed, my daughter?” 

“Only a little surprised. It’s quite remarkable, you’ll admit, that all the others of that first tribe have all perished over the millennia... one by one... while you who masqueraded as a beast in the forest’s depths, somehow survived.” 

“Chani, why must there be this war between us?” 

“War? War implies a struggle, a conflict. There is no conflict between us, Mother. There is only a rift. You stand on your side, and I on mine, and never shall the gulf be breached.” 

Timmain looked away. Petalwing peeked out from behind her white hair. It frowned. “Golden-soft highthing?” it murmured, scrutinizing Chani’s face. Then it saw the black Preserver crouched on Haken’s shoulder. “Ahhhhh! Sourface No-Hat!” 

The black Preserver drew back its lip in a snarl. “Petalwing!” 

“Petalwing thought No-Hat had flown away-away.” 

“Flitrin!” it snapped back. 

“Awww.... No-Hat still sourface.” 

Flirtin hissed menacingly. 

“Why have you come here?” Chani asked now. 

“We come in peace,” Grayling said. “It remains to be seen whether you will welcome us in kind.” 

Chani laughed lightly. “Oh, I see Savah’s teachings in you. I’ve been watching you most closely, Wolfrider. You know what it truly means to be an elf.” 

“You’ve been... watching me?” Grayling frowned. “How... when?” 

Chani gave him a sly little smile. Timmain drew in a sharp breath. 

“The mountain lion.” 

Chani nodded. 

“I never knew you could selfshape, daughter.” 

“Oh, I could not. Until I came back. It’s amazing how dying changes one’s perspective.” She looked over the travellers. “The rest of you are welcome to stay here, so long as you remember the courtesy due a host from his guests.” There was ice to her voice now. 

“Nastybad highthings! Angrytalk makes mother-mother highthing much sad. Make Petalwing much vexed!” 

“Too much fuss-fuss bugs end up in bitty bits,” Flitrin taunted. 

Haken chuckled. 

“No-Hat messymuch in head,” Petalwing trilled, sticking out his tongue. “No fussmuch when No-Hat goes fly away-away. Petalwing not miss sourface one bitty-bit!” 

“Petalwing die now!” Flitrin screeched, launching itself off Haken’s shoulder, claws outstretched. Petalwing shrieked and hid behind Timmain’s head. But Chani’s arm shot out and she snatched Flitrin out of the air before it could attack. 

“Flitrin will behave,” she ordered. 

“Lady Highthing! Newcomer... things only cause trouble,” it whined miserably. 

“Flitrin. Do.” 

“Flitrin do,” it grumbled, and hopped up onto her head, where it curled up and spread its wings like a pair of flower’s petals. 

Coppersky moved up to join Grayling. “Someone else is watching us,” he whispered low, yet just loud enough for Haken and Chani to overhear. 

Grayling looked about the room. The shadows of the peristyle and whatever corridors lay behind could easily conceal a spy. And none of the travellers had wolf-blood, not even Timmain, as she was in elfin form. 

Yet it was Windkin, the full-blooded Glider, who recognized the distinctive presence of the intruder. He left Ahdri’s side and walked up to join Grayling and Coppersky. 

“Spar?” he called. “Spar, are you here?” 

Grayling and Venka exchanged worried glances. But Chani only smiled. “They’ve found you out, my dear.” 

They turned to the columned peristyle, all shadows beyond the reach of the skylight. A figure slowly emerged from the gloom. The daughter of Redlance and Nightfall stood overlooking the travellers. She wore a long black robe that swallowed up her slight figure and set off the brilliant highlights in her red hair. 

“Spar!” Windkin exclaimed. “What are you doing here? Is Door here too?” 

Spar smiled, a little nervously. “Would he be anywhere else? He would have been here to greet you too, but he’s still nervous around newcomers.” 

“Spar,” Venka said. “Why are you here?” 

“Because Haken and Chani invited us here. As family.” 

“Family?” Grayling frowned. 

“Door is our great-grandson,” Chani said. “Grandchild of our son Runya.” 

“Mm, and he has some part to play in your plans?” Venka asked. 

“Plans? Does family need plans?” Haken demanded. “We heard his cry for aid those many years ago, but it was only recently that we found him.” 

“And what of Aurek?” Timmain asked. “Your grandson. Have you called him close, as ‘family?’” 

“In time,” Chani replied. “He is a world away, after all. And we had no desire to disturb others.” 

“To draw attention to yourselves,” Grayling corrected. 

“You speak as though we must hide ourselves,” Haken said. 

“Isn’t that what you’re doing – behind these walls of rock and needle-mounds?” 

Haken chuckled. “Oh, you’re right, Chani. He has promise.” 

“Why are you here, Spar?” Windkin addressed the Wolfrider again. “Why didn’t you send to us in Sorrow’s End? How long have you been here?” 

Spar shrugged. “A year... more or less.” She hugged the stone column as if for support. There was sadness in her eyes. Or was it fear? 

“Are they holding you here against your will?” Windkin asked. 

She smiled faintly. “Windkin, when has anyone ever done anything to me against my will?” 

“Is it so hard to believe she would wish to join her lifemate’s family?” Haken asked. 

“Oh, I know Door always longed for the old days of Blue Mountain,” Windkin said. “But this doesn’t seem like the Spar I know.” 

“Times change,” Spar said. “Neither of us are the cubs we were.” 

“Oh, it’s been a long time since we were lovemates, yes. But it wasn’t so long ago we saw each other in the Forevergreen.” 

“Four years, Windkin.” 

“Four years...” Windkin nodded. “You were still begging Door to come to Sorrow’s End, to forget the dreams of Blue Mountain and humans kept as pets. Now... what?” he scowled. “You’re making a new holt with the Father of Blue Mountain? What’s changed since then?” 

Spar stepped away from the column. She unclasped the robe at her throat and swept it open, revealing a soft blue caftan stretched tightly over her swollen abdomen. 

She smiled gently at their astonished faces. 

“You see?” Haken said. “The Gliders are far from extinct.” 

Ahdri spoke next, breaking the nervous silence that had descended over the Jackwolf Riders. 

“Haken. Do you and your... family... wish to come visit Sorrow’s End and meet with the Mother of Memory face to face. Or was that a ruse to lure us here?” 

“Oh, I am looking forward to meeting my many-times granddaughter,” Haken said. 

“But the sun is rising higher,” Chani interrupted smoothly. “You must all be tired from your travels. We shall speak more of this come sundown. We have many rooms that offer refuge from the heat.” 

“But Timmain is not welcome in your house,” Grayling said. 

“For my part, I am most indifferent,” Chani replied smoothly. “But, in deference to my lord,” she held out her hand, and again Haken took it, “I must decline her sanctuary inside the mountain.” 

“They we will not take refuge inside either,” Grayling said. “We will make our own shelter in the valley below.” 

“As you wish.” 

“And we will speak more this evening?” 

“Of course.” 

Grayling gave her a little bow of the head. “Then until tonight. And we are grateful for the shelter of your oasis.” He gave a little nod to the others, and turned to leave. 

“Wait,” Windkin held up his hand. “I’d like to speak with Spar. If... that is permitted, of course.” Cold disdain dripped from his voice, and to those who knew Tyldak, it was clear Windkin was every inch his son. 

Haken sniffed scornfully. Chani, however, was unfazed. “It is for Spar to say, not us.” 

“I’d like that,” Spar said. 

Windkin touched foreheads with Ahdri. “I’ll be done before long, don’t worry.” 

**Be careful, Hwll,** she locksent. **I don’t trust much in this place.** 

He smiled tightly. **Neither do I.** 

* * * 

Spar led Windkin beyond the peristyle into her room, a chamber shaped as cleanly as if it were a clay-sculpted hut in Sorrow’s End. Large windows let in sunlight and a fresh breeze. Spar sat down in a stone chair softened by cushions and blankets. “Is this loom-work?” Windkin asked as he sat down opposite on a little bench. 

“Yes. I learned from the humans in the Forevergreen. It’s quite simple, really.” 

“Spar...” Windkin leaned forward and took her hands in his. “What’s happening here? You, Door... Haken... this place... the cub?” 

Spar smiled softly. “You can never predict Recognition.” 

“How long?” 

“A year... and a moon or two.” 

“Why didn’t you send to us. Does anyone else know? Your parents?” 

Spar shook her head. 

“Why not? This isn’t the old days – you can send to anyone you want, anywhere in the world.” 

Spar hugged her stomach. “I... I don’t know, Windkin. Haken and Chani appeared in the Forevergreen one day... and spoke to us about... about forming a new holt. A new... mountain. And I didn’t know what to think about it... and then Door and I Recognized. And suddenly there was a cub to worry about. I suppose... I suppose there were things that needed taking care of before I told anyone.” 

“Tyldak’s son,” a voice announced. Windkin looked up. Door had silently floated into the room, all haughty bearing. The silver-haired Glider, at least, had not changed since Windkin last seen him. 

“Door.” 

“You’ve heard the good news, I see.” Door snuck up behind Spar’s chair and bent down, slipping his arms about her shoulders. “Isn’t she aglow with life, my lovely mate? We will make perfect child, the two of us. Who knows?” he turned to Spar. “You and I, we may even sire a whole tribe of Gliders? Would that not extraordinary?” 

“Well, let’s see how this one turns out, old bird,” Spar smiled wryly. “Siring’s a lot easier than bearing, you know.” 

**Spar,** Windkin locksent. **Are you truly happy here? Or is Recognition holding you fast?** 

Door looked up. “Oh, do me the respect of speaking openly, cousin! Do you think I cannot hear any attempts at locksending in my presence?” 

“Fenn!” Spar slapped his arm lightly. “Don’t preen. And don’t act like you can hear his sendings – you can feel the static in the air, that’s all.” 

“Spar!” Door exclaimed. 

“And Windkin, do you think I could take him down from his high perch if I was a prisoner, even one of Recognition. Of course I’m happy here. If I wasn’t, I’d have sent for an escape long ago.” Spar sat up straighter. “No, I’m happy here. But I’m worried.” 

“About what?” Windkin asked. 

“What troubles you, my precious?” 

Spar shook her head. “I know you think Haken is a danger. And I’m worried that you’ll see a battle where none exists. That’s why I waited so long to tell the Wolfriders about the cub.” 

“What is happening here?” Windkin asked. “You can’t seriously want to recreate Blue Mountain.” 

“Why not?” Door challenged. “We are children of the High Ones. Nothing is beyond our power.” 

“Some things should be beyond common sense!” Windkin snapped. “Or have you forgotten about the Black Snake entirely? That’s her father out there!” 

“Haken is not Winnowill.” 

“And you think you can remake Blue Mountain under his guidance?” 

“Blue Mountain was a wondrous place once, before Grandfather left and Winnowill went mad. Aurek showed me in the sending. So has Grandfather. Blue Mountain was a dream once. That dream is waiting to be recaptured.” 

“Out here in the desert?” 

“Far from any passing humans,” Spar said. “A sanctuary for our kind.” 

“Have you given up trying to tame humans, Door?” 

“You have a mouth on you,” Door growled. 

“Many things have changed since you last visited us,” Spar said. 

“So now you want a sanctuary. But not in Sorrow’s End.” 

“We would like to visit Sorrow’s End.” 

“Oh, but not to live there,” Windkin drawled. “You have your ‘Oasis.’ Your new Blue Mountain. To hold a grand tribe of five!” 

“There may soon be more than five,” Door shot back. Spar touched his arm, shushing him softly. 

“Oh, you’ll breed a new tribe, you two?” Windkin asked. Then he saw Spar’s furtive looks to her lifemate. He frowned. “That’s not what he meant, is it, Spar?" 

Spar would not meet his gaze. “Spar?” Windkin pressed. “Great Sun... so that’s why Haken wants to see Savah!” 

“Windkin–” Spar began, but he was already springing up from the bench. 

* * * 

Ahdri shaped a little archway out of the sandstone bluffs next to the stairs, and gave the travellers and their mounts some shade. Timmain, however, would not accept the shelter, and instead sat in the reeds near the pool. 

Tass spread out her blanket, grumbling loudly. 

“What’s gnawing at your gut?” Sust asked. 

“Chani. Can you imagine? ‘In deference to my lord...’” she sneered. “What art!” 

Coppersky laughed. “Beautiful. That was... smooth as honey.” 

“Shh,” Venka warned. She nodded meaningfully towards Timmain’s back. 

Coppersky rolled his eyes, then stretched out on his back with his head in Sust’s lap. “Mm, don’t you dare move,” he replied dreamily. 

“Am I going to get to lie down, kitten?” 

“Do whatever you want, Sust. Just don’t move.” 

Sust chuckled. A sharp kick of the knee shocked Coppersky out of his reverie. 

Grayling spread out his own blanket and lay down. His mind was racing. Plans within plans, no doubt – no matter what Haken said about “family.” But what he was planning, Grayling could only guess. 

He thought of Spar, and her full belly. Alekah would be that big in another turn of the seasons. He would be glad to back in Sorrow’s End well before then, back where everything make sense, home in time to feel the little cubling kicking for the first time. 

**Grayling!** Windkin’s sending broke his train of thought. 

Windkin appeared a moment later, flying down from the mountain’s peak at high speed. He kick the ground running and dashed under the arch. 

“Lifemate – what?” Ahdri hastened to his side. 

“Grayling!” Windkin gasped, breathless. “This oasis isn’t just for four elves. Haken wants to rebuild Blue Mountain – and he needs a new tribe to do it. That’s why he wants to go to Sorrow’s End. He wants the Sun Folk here, under his yoke!”


	3. Sorrow's Challenge

“Is it true?” Grayling demanded. 

Chani looked up from the loom at the Jackwolf chieftain, flanked by Venka and Ahdri. “True? Now, you should know that truth varies from speaker to speaker.” 

“Is it true?” 

“Is what true? That Haken and I intend to lure the Sun Folk here and enslave them? I can assure you, that is pure fantasy. Do you like my handiwork?” she indicated the long sheet of cotton she was creating. “Spar has been trying to teach me. But no matter what I do, an imperfection or two always slips in.” She fingered the weave, frowning at a tangle in the fabric. “Ahh, I am a hunter, not a crafter. I should know better.” 

“Where is Haken?” Venka asked. 

Chani glanced over her shoulder. “Would you really want to discuss this with him?” she smiled. “At any rate, he is out hunting with Door.” 

“Is Windkin right?” Ahdri asked. “Do you wish to rebuild Blue Mountain with the Sun Folk and your new tribe?” 

“We wish to aid the Sun Folk, in any way we can.” 

“How?” Venka asked. 

“That is for the Sun Folk to decide.” 

“But this mountain – this valley – it is too big for four elves and one unborn child,” Venka pressed. “Your oasis is big enough to hold all the Sun Folk.” 

“Yes. And unlike Sorrow’s End, it is already well fortified against human assaults.” 

Venka drew in a breath. “Ah. Now I understand. Savah warned me to keep an open mind. She told me the village would need Haken. This was her idea, was it not?” 

“You know her well.” Chani gave a little nod. “Yes. Haken and I first found this place years ago, during our long journey south to find our lost child. And we recognized it for what it was – a sanctuary, a foundation for a new vision. At first we thought we and Door might make it our home. But then we found Door’s young mate. And then, as we brought them here to see the oasis, Haken encountered Savah’s presence. She told us of the difficulties her tribe faced.” 

“And you realized that Oasis could solve all of Sorrow’s End problems,” Grayling whispered. 

Chani rose from her seat next to the horizontal loom. “Savah has told us of your efforts to raise a mountain wall around the village, Ahdri. Truly the powers of the Firstcomers are alive in you. But it’s only a temporary measure, is it not? The humans are evolving faster than we might have imagined. Already they are attempting to build trading empires across the land. The Hoan-G’Tay-Sho Door drove out of the Forevergreen are building settlements along the coastline, far to the west. Your humans seem quite intent on colonizing the mountains of Sorrow’s End to provide a clear trading path to the eastern forests. The time will come... sooner than we might have guessed, when Sorrow’s End will become a hidden village, surrounded by human camps.” 

Grayling set his jaw. No, that was one future he was determined to prevent. Chani noticed his expression. “I see that possibility disgusts you as well. Our kind does well to avoid humans. But Sorrow’s End is a poor hiding place. You will entomb yourselves in shaped rock before long.” 

“And how will moving here change anything?” Ahdri asked. 

“Look around you. These mountains are too steep and too remote for humans. We chose this site well. If it’s contact with the sea and the forests south you want, the easiest route is two days’ journey west, hugging the coastline. If you’d prefer to travel east-west, there is a low-lying mountain pass a day north of here. And a deep river canyon two days to the south. The natural rock barriers that surround the oasis required little rockshaping from Haken and Door. Spar’s needle-fields provide another almost natural barrier. There is ample earth for fields in the valley, and land to the northwest where more farming plots can be established. It’s a perfect sanctuary.” 

“Sorrow’s End is home!” Ahdri insisted. 

Chani nodded. “And that’s why all the Sun Folk must have a chance to decide.” 

“Every elf having a voice,” Venka spoke. “A new concept for your ‘lord.’” 

“You don’t know Haken. You can’t begin to understand him.” 

“I’ve felt enough of his mind to know what drives him.” 

“Mmm, and Timmain helped you frame your knowledge, I’ve no doubt. And I’ve no doubt she believes what she says about him. That he’s wantonly cruel, hungry for power above all else, and prepared to kill indiscriminately to enforce his will. But truth is a most malleable thing, is it not? Like the wind, it carries a different scent, depending on its direction.” 

“Yes, and you shape your own truth very carefully,” Venka said. 

“Will you offer us safe passage to Sorrow’s End?” Chani asked. “Or will you declare yourselves defenders of the innocent flock, and stand against us?” 

“Then we would be denying the Sun Folk the choice you offer them,” Grayling said. “That was a poor trap, easily sprung, Lady Chani.” 

Chani smiled. “I’d have been most disappointed had you said otherwise.” 

“Savah has invited you to Sorrow’s End,” Venka said. “And escort you to Sorrow’s End we will. But you’ll forgive us if we are just as braced for combat as you and your lord.” 

Chani gave her a little bow of the head. “Good hunters always are.” 

* * * 

Savah sat in the darkened alcove just beyond her meditation chamber. The Little Palace sat on its pedestal, humming softly with accompanying pulses of light. Savah smiled. “They are coming home.” 

At her side, Leetah bit her lip. “What do you see in there, Mother of Memory?” 

“Many things, child. Distant lands growing closer... past and future beginning to merge...” 

“I’m afraid, Mother of Memory. We’ve known peace for so long... and now comes darkness and the threat of war. Will things ever be... normal again, Savah?” 

“What is ‘normal’ my child, but the movement of the seasons and the changing of the land? Normal is change.” 

“Too much change.” 

“Nothing can be changeless, dear Leetah. Light cannot be kindled in isolation.” 

“The father of the Black Snake cannot come here! He will destroy everything we have built.” 

“Perhaps he will...” Savah whispered. “But destruction is simply another step on creation’s path.” 

“We cannot let our way of life be destroyed!” 

Savah sighed sadly. “A lesson I learned long ago... and one our friends the Wolfriders constantly remind me... to survive one must adapt to change... embrace the moment, not cling to the past. One must adapt... or perish.” 

The Little Palace shivered. “Ahh!” Savah smiled. 

“What is it?” 

“We have a visitor, I think.” 

Savah rose from his seat and walked to the doorway of her hut, Leetah close on her heels. They took the path towards the outskirts of the village, following the excited shouts of the farmers. 

The Palace had already disappeared, but the faint static tingle lingered in the air. Weatherbird was calmly striding down the path, a travelling bag slung over her shoulder. 

“Savah,” she smiled. 

“Why, this is a surprise, kitling. What brings you here to Sorrow’s End – and without your gallant lifemate?” 

“You’re expecting some company, aren’t you? Aunt Venka asked for me to help you... welcome him.” 

“Ah.” Savah nodded. Yes, of all the younger elves, Sunstream’s daughter was surely the most likely to achieve some level of empathy with their most volatile guest. “You are a most welcome ambassador. But where is your guardian?” 

Weatherbird laughed. “Well, we decided Cheipar might be... a bit of a distraction.” She shifted the bag on her shoulder, and Leetah offered to take it from her. Weatherbird smiled and handed the bag over. Leetah frowned as she hefted it far more easily than she had imagined. 

Weatherbird shrugged. “I travel light.” 

* * * 

The journey back to Sorrow’s End was filled with just as much tension and uncertainty as the journey south, yet for different reasons. At times there were two travelling parties, not one. While Spar happily rode alongside her old tribemates atop a great horned antelope called a crescent-horn, Door kept to the air above with Windkin, and Haken and Chani often disappeared for the greater part of each day, reappearing as the pack stopped to rest, only to camp at a great distance from the others. 

Timmain abandoned her gown and took to her jackwolf form exclusively. A more alert guard there never was. She never slept, but paced about her companions day and night, as if anticipating an attack. 

The tension between mother and daughter was excruciating, and Grayling marvelled how the two could pass each other without so much as an acknowledgement of the others’ presence. Whenever in camp, Haken maintained a careful distance from Timmain at all times. Her one attempt to make peace was rudely rebuffed. It was the third day of travel north and Timmain had caught a small deer-like creature, barely larger than a fat forest ravvit. She snapped the animal in two at the hips and carried the rich hindquarters over to Haken and Chani. With a cautious wag of her tail, she laid it on the ground next to Haken’s feet. 

Haken sneered. “You think I would take rotten meat from your jaws?” 

Timmain nudged the bloody carcass with her nose. Haken spat on the meat. 

Timmain’s ears flattened against her skull. In her jackwolf form she was very irritable, and the elf-thought within her knew he had done her a grave insult. Even as Venka called for a truce, Timmain growled low, baring her teeth. 

“Oh, there’s a wolf’s reply,” Haken laughed. But there was genuine fear in his eyes, and he raised his hand, summoning his magic. Timmain saw him assume a defensive stance and the fur on the back of her neck stood on end. 

“Enough!” Chani snapped. “This is ridiculous. You’re a High One, Timmain!” 

“Oh... I know that look in her eyes well,” Haken breathed, and he clenched his fist tightly. A hissing aura of static surrounded him. 

“Stop it!” Tass demanded, forcing her way between them. But Timmain ably darted to the side, keeping an open path to Haken. 

**No matter the joy you’ve been granted, you will always resort to fear and pain!** Timmain snarled. **There is no love in your heart!** 

“What do you know of my heart, you savage beast?” 

Timmain crouched low, ready to strike. Haken staggered back, marshalling a black sending. 

**STOP IT!** Tass sent. 

A wave of sending and shielding power struck both High Ones, throwing them away from each other. Haken was tossed a good ten paces and fell back against the rocks, his head ringing from Tass’s sending. Timmain was thrown head over heels, and hit the ground hard, whimpering miserably. Chani grit her teeth and eyed Tass warily, but the girl had already moved on. 

Timmain and Haken gave each other a very wide berth from that point on, and Haken and Chani both maintained a good distance from Tass. 

* * * 

“Does he have a name?” Windkin asked one afternoon as Spar was grooming her crescent-horn. 

“I call him Surefoot,” she shrugged. “It’s sort of stuck. There are no zwoots in the mountains around Oasis. It’s too rugged. But the crescent-horns are everywhere. So are the klipspringers.” 

“What are they?” 

“Those little deer-like things, about as tall as our waists. They have such tiny feet – they can scale the cliffs effortlessly.” Spar sat down on a large rock. “Ohh, the cub’s restless today.” 

“May I?” Windkin asked. Spar nodded, and he put his hand to her stomach. He was quickly rewarded with a sharp kick. 

“‘Hands off Mama,’ he’s saying,” Spar laughed. “Oh, I don’t think he’ll have a Glider’s power. But he’ll be a climber at this rate.” 

“You shouldn’t be out in the wilderness alone, Spar. Not when you’re with child.” 

“Oh, I’ve never been alone. Door is smothering me with care. And Chani... she’s been such a comfort. She’s such a kind soul, Windkin. I know she seems... cold, around Timmain. But she’s all warmth when she’s at ease.” 

Windkin looked over his shoulder. Chani sat next to Sust’s tuftcat, scratching the cat’s ears as the beast purred loudly in approval. 

“His name’s Stubtail,” Sust said. “Stubtail the... oh, the Four-Eights-and-Two, I think. I name nearly every cat I ride Stubtail after my first.” He shook the cloak over his shoulders. “He was a good cat. So this one is his four-eights-and-second descendent, I guess.” 

“He’s a good cat too,” Chani smiled. She let out a little yelp as the cat licked her face, his barbed tongue tickling her cheek. “Are they always this friendly?” 

“They should be. I raise them all by hand. They think we’re all just ugly cats.” He chuckled. “The others said I was crazy when I was a cub and I wanted to ride the first Stubtail. ‘Tuftcats aren’t wolves. You can’t ride them like wolves.’ But Papa and I rescued the little cub from the scavengers after the Hunt killed his mother, and I said I’d make a wolf out of him. Didn’t, really. Cats hunt so differently. So I said ‘Poke it’ and became a cat-rider.” 

“And why not?” Chani nodded approvingly. 

Haken was sitting by himself, some distance from the others, as always. Flitrin perched on the rocks next to him, a vigilant guard. It hissed as Coppersky hiked over, bearing a hank of roasted meat. “Didn’t know if you’d had anything to eat,” Coppersky said, somewhat sheepishly. 

“I did,” Haken said. He hesitated. “But, thank you.” 

“Oh, just as well then,” Coppersky shrugged, and proceeded to take a sizable bite of the roast. He began to sit down on a nearby rock, then thought better of it and turned to withdraw. 

“Who are you?” Haken asked. “You’re no Wolfrider, that’s certain.” 

“I should hope not,” Coppersky said imperiously. “I may ride a jackwolf... or a tuftcat for that matter. But I refuse to eat raw meat, and I hope never to experience a moment of ‘Wolf-thought’ in my life. My father is Ahnshen, the... uh... weaver,” he gave a little roll of the eyes, “of Sorrow’s End.” 

“Ah, an artisan,” Haken nodded. “Value your crafters, lad. They may not be the Chosen Hunters, but they are the guardians of culture. And culture is the only thing that separates us from the fell beasts of this world.” 

Coppersky brightened. “Yes, my lord. Exactly.” 

“Sit,” Haken indicated a nearby rock. Coppersky sat down and took another bite of his roast. “Is the bitch still that? In skin, not in spirit, I mean?” Haken asked. 

Coppersky fought to swallow. “Ahem...” he stammered, trying to distort the smile that overtook his smile into something more grave. “You have a way with words, my lord.” 

“My words amuse you, I see.” 

“I have nothing against Timmain. I’m sure she’s a fine mother-wolf to the Great Holt-ers. But... I can’t see Savah running around as a jackwolf. I don’t know – I’m sure selfshaping is... an experience. And my distant cousin Kimo likes to play wolf now and then, I hear. But... I don’t think he enjoys it as much as Timmain. I don’t think he ever forgets that he’s really an elf.” 

Haken made a snap of the fingers. “Yes. Above all, never forget who you are – what you are. Never forget what your ancestors endured to hone their powers of mind and body, to cultivate such worlds of the matter and the spirit for you to inhabit.” 

“Never settle for less than you are owed.” 

Haken laughed. “Are all Sun Folk as wise as you?” 

Coppersky sighed. “Most Sun Folk prefer to think that they are freely given what they are owed, and look for no more. There is... a lack of something in Sorrow’s End. A lack of ambition. That’s why I became a Jackwolf Rider. That’s why I left for so many years.” 

“But you’re back now, are you not?” 

“It was time to come home. My family needs me.” 

“Then you understand my purpose?” 

Coppersky nodded. 

“Do the others? Your kin of... what did young Ahdri call it, of ‘blood and lifematings.’” 

“I think some do.” 

“But she does not.” 

“No one knows what she thinks.” 

“I do. There’s a reason she wears a new skin. Faster reflexes,” Haken flashed a cruel grin. He flexed the stump that was his left arm. “In case she needs to finish what she began.” 

Coppersky was silent a moment, and he bowed his head to hide his brooding countenance. “If anyone ever... took my arm off and left me to bleed to death... I don’t think I could ever let them live.” 

Haken chuckled. “Despite what you witnessed days ago... I... tolerate her continued existence.” 

“Because of Chani?” 

Haken smiled wistfully. “Because Timmain gave me the greatest gift... most unwillingly. Ironic... had I succeeded in my revenge, I might have known nothing but sorrow in my life. She is... my very existence.” His smile lingered a moment, then soured. “And she is the only reason Timmain and I both still draw breath.” 

* * * 

Many leagues to the north, Sorrow’s End slumbered through the night. But even within the safety of the rocks, sleep eluded some. 

Wing hated being chief. He always dreaded it when Grayling left the village and placed him in charge. He weight of responsibility, the constant second-guessing, it all sat unevenly on his shoulders, especially now with humans camped not three days’ travel away. 

He lay awake in bed, sleepless for the fourth night in a row. Five days past he and several others on the north side of the village had been awakened by noises in the hills. The remaining Jackwolf Riders had charged into the rocks on the lookout for humans. The intruder turned out to be a fat old boar whose hooves had triggered a little rockslide. But Wing had been on edge since. 

He rolled over on his side, regarding his lifemate. Behtia was fast asleep, her face cloaked in the shadows of her long auburn hair. She slept like the dead. Training with Halek and Scouter left her exhausted, yet she continued to practice with dedication. Wing smiled fondly. Poor Behtia. She was not meant to be a warrior. No, she would always be happiest working at her mill – the first-ever mechanical mill in Sorrow’s End. He remembered the excitement in her eyes the day she first had the idea to adapt the crank-and-pulley system used at the well to mill grain. It was before their Recognition, when he had been too shy to approach her. 

He lay his head back down on the pillow and tried to summon memories of happier times to lull him into sleep. He remembered the first days after little Ember’s birth, during the golden years when peace reigned. 

Scouter’s sending shocked him from his reverie. **Wing! We need you! Intruders to the north.** 

Wing moaned. **I nearly feel asleep for the first time in five nights, Scouter. This better not be another false alarm.** 

**Two humans and a no-hump! I think they’re scouts.” 

Wing slipped out of bed and dressed as quietly as he could. Within minutes he had joined the warriors in the rocks that guarded the northern boundary of the village. 

There were two humans and one little pony. They were taking advantage of the cool darkness and the bright moons overhead to scout a path through the field of squat-needle mounds where the Wolfriders had once taken rest so many years before. The Jackwolf Riders hid among the rocks, watching their prey closely. 

They seemed a mated pair, the two explorers. The female was leading the no-hump on a short leash while the male scouted ahead, turning over rocks and poking at the sandy soil. Their loud chatter was ceaseless. **Wing! What are they saying?** Scouter demanded. 

**I think they want to make a camp for the night,** Wing sent back. **The female is complaining. Something about a long march and sore feet. And the male is telling her to be quiet.** 

Now the humans passed by beneath them, the man first walking past the rock that concealed Shushen and Dodia, then stopped and digging in the ground directly below Mahree and Halek’s hiding place. 

Wing felt, rather than heard, Scouter’s growl. All the warriors did. 

**You hold your ground, Scouter,** he warned. **No one shoots until I give the order.** But he could not muster the authority Grayling could, and they all knew it. Wing was a fine strategist and an excellent hunter. But he lacked the forcefulness a chief wolf needed. 

**He’s digging for water,** Halek hissed. 

They waited tensely as the human continued to dig until he had a hole as deep as the length of his forearm. The woman was chattering at him, presumably to hurry up. At length the male sat back. He heaved a sigh and spat out his response. 

**‘Dry sand and rock,’** Wing translated. 

The male began gesturing wildly, indicating the rocks. The Jackwolf Riders froze in horror. The male took a step closer to the hillside, but the woman shouted something at him that made him turn back. The two quarrelled loudly, then the man threw his hands into the air and stalked away, no longer headed for the rocks and the hidden elves. 

The woman sat down pointedly on a rock and began to unravel the bedroll lashed to her back. The man turned back and began to shout at her again. He seized her arm and raised a hand to strike her, but the woman shouted back at him, and her shrill voice drove him back. In fury, the man began to climb the rocks again, now on a direct course for the hidden plateau where Wing crouched, and the little path that led down into the village. 

**Hold...** Wing continued to send. 

Again the woman shouted, and again the man turned. But this time his hand dropped to the crude stone dagger at his waist, which he drew angrily. He spat something back over his shoulder at his mate and raised the knife in warning. And then he turned, his beady eyes scanning the sandstone boulders. 

An arrow whistled through the air. It struck him square in the chest, piercing his heart. With a cry he fell over, then rolled down the hillside. 

His mate let out a shriek and bolted for her pony. 

“Scat!” Wing swore, breaking den-hide. He brought his bow around and nocked an arrow. With one clean shot, he sent an arrow into the woman’s back. The pony whinnied and ran off over the sands. The elves let it go. Beasts could not tell tales, after all. 

Slowly the hunters descended from the rocks. They hung back as Wing stalked down the hillside. He struggled to turn the dead male over and examine the arrow in his chest. The distinctive black fletching was unmistakable. 

“Scouterrrrrrrr....” Wing growled low in his throat. 

The Wolfrider stepped down from his hiding place. “He saw me, Wing,” he stammered. “His hand was on his knife and he looked this way and I know he saw me. We couldn’t let him–” 

Wing turned on him, fury in his eyes. In his place, Grayling would have seized Scouter by his face-fur and thrown him against the rocks. But Wing lacked the conviction to enforce his orders through violence. “Why?” he shouted instead. “Is this how a Wolfrider obeys his chief? Is it? I said no killing until I gave the word! And now two are dead that should not be!” 

“Humans!” Scouter shot back. “I won’t grieve for them–” 

Wing drew himself up as tall as he could, ever aware that his great blue eyes and somewhat middling stature were not the attributes of a chief wolf. “Grayling left me in charge! I am your chief in his stead! Do you challenge me? For if you do you’ll have to answer to Bearclaw’s son!” There. Mentioning that unmentionable elf always struck fear into the hearts of Wolfriders. 

Scouter was defensive, belligerently so. “Grayling would have given the order to fire.” 

“Would he? And can you second-guess our chief in his absence? Poke it, Scouter! Don’t you think the humans will notice if these two don’t come home? Don’t you think more scouts will come looking for their bodies? We could have a swarm of humans in these rocks within days – just a stone’s throw away from our homes! You may have just destroyed Sorrow’s End!” 

Scouter scowled, but said no more. He spat on the human corpse as he climbed back up the hillside. Wing longed to shout at his back, to make him turn around, but he knew Scouter was not in the mood to listen. And he hadn’t the strength of will to make the errant archer turn around. 

He hated being chief. 

They fed the bodies of the humans to the jackwolves and tuftcats, then gathered up the broken bones. Halek and Dodia rode out west for a day’s travel, to strew the bones across the sand. With luck the humans would think the two had been killed by mountain lions. 

Scouter pointedly avoided Wing in the wake of the incident. So did Shushen and Dahn. Shushen and Mahree quarrelled constantly, while Dodia calmly withdrew from conversation with the feuding Riders. Wing hoped Grayling would return home soon. The Jackwolf Riders were slowly breaking apart without him to hold them together. 

* * * 

The return journey took longer than the journey south, and two and a half months had passed before the Jackwolf Riders returned home. It was early morning when Scouter announced he spotted a string of riders approaching from the south-east. 

Weatherbird lingered with Savah in the doorway of the Mother of Memory’s hut while the villagers rushed out to greet the Riders. Two elves on Jackwolf descended from the rocks, followed closely by two elves on a zwoot and two elves riding on tuftcats. There was no sign of Windkin or Timmain, let alone the expected guests. 

**Kel,** Hansha sighed as he embraced Grayling in greeting. Grayling hugged him back fiercely. 

“Oh, I’ve missed you...” he whispered, before covering Hansha’s mouth with his. 

Alekah jogged up to join Hansha. “Grayling!” 

Grayling turned to his Recognized. “Alekah. How are you? How’s the cub?” 

“Barely any bigger than when you left, don’t worry.” She embraced him. “Hansha and Jari have been taking good care of me. But where are the others?” 

Ahdri and Tass climbed down from the zwoot just as a new jackwolf appeared from behind the rocks. Alekah frowned. “Who–?” 

“Timmain. She... well... she has her reasons.” 

“Grayling!” Wing joined the milling villagers. “Good to have you back, chief.” 

“Being chief in my stead doesn’t agree with you, old friend?” 

“You know it doesn’t,” Wing grinned, clasping hands with Grayling. “But where–?” 

“They’re coming.” 

A few more minutes passed, then a newcomer appeared over the hills. A red-haired elf, visibly pregnant, rode astride a strange beast, not quite as large as a zwoot. Windkin flew overhead, followed closely by another floating elf. 

Now Savah and Sun-Toucher had arrived at the village’s edge. Their arrival must have interrupted Savah’s nightly meditation, for she did not wear her golden crown, and her steely-gray hair fell over her shoulders in a multitude of tiny braids. “A place of welcoming and farewells,” Savah said. “Today, it is the joy of greeting that brings us here.” 

Windkin landed on the ground. A moment later the other Glider dropped down. A head taller than Windkin, clad in long robes and wearing a capelet of dark feathers, the silver-haired elf looked every inch an ancient Glider lord. 

“Savah!” Windkin flew over to greet her. “You remember Spar, Redlance and Nightfall’s daughter.” 

“Of course.” Savah held out her hands to greet Spar. “Welcome to Sorrow’s End, my dear.” 

“And this is–” 

“My far-cousin Fenn, called Door,” Savah nodded. “You are both most welcome.” 

“What’s... Spar doing here?” Wing whispered to Grayling. 

“It’s... a long story.” 

“And... I take it she finally Recognized Door?” 

“Uh-huh.” 

“Father – of course I’m fine–” Tass yelped as Zhantee embraced her tightly, having already enfolded Venka in a “welcome-home” bear hug. Recently freed from her lifemate’s arms, Venka now moved over to Savah’s side. 

“Perhaps we could... disperse the crowd a little,” she whispered. “Haken is... a little uncertain.” 

“Yes, perhaps–” Savah looked up at the rocks and caught her breath. A figure cloaked in a white robe stood on the hillside. Savah left Venka’s side and moved towards the rocks, her feet unsteady. The figure descended the hillside, his movements just as slow, as cautious. 

“Savah?” Sun-Toucher called, but Savah did not seem to hear him. 

Haken reached up and doffed his hood as he staggered down from the hillside. Savah reached the base of the slope and stopped. Haken hesitated a moment on the rocks, then stepped down to meet her. His expression was one the elves had never seen before – one of absolute wonder. 

Haken lifted his hand to her face. “Your eyes... they are Vreya’s eyes. Your hair... your face... different.” Tears welled in his eyes. “But you have my daughter’s eyes.” 

“Grandfather...” Savah whispered. She touched her forehead to his. “Oh, it’s been so long since I looked into the eyes of family.” 

The Sun Folk hung back, allowing the reunited pair a scant moment of privacy. When Savah stepped back at last and looked up at the rocks, Chani was already descending to the sandy plain, a smile on her lips. 

“You must be exhausted,” Savah said at last, rising a long-fingered hand to wipe away her tears. “The sun is rising fast. Please, come inside. My hut is yours.” 

Haken and Chani gratefully followed the Mother of Memory, while Door and Spar lingered by Windkin, still uncertain. Timmain turned and retreated towards the waiting jackwolf pack. 

“We have much to discuss,” Savah said as she led them inside her hut. “But you must rest first. My underground chamber is dark and cool. And as I’ve long since given up sleep, you will not be imposing.” 

Weatherbird was waiting just inside the doorway. “Ah, Weatherbird,” Savah smiled. “Haken, Chani. I must introduce you to Weatherbird, daughter of Sunstream, Master of the Palace.” 

Haken drew back. “I know you. Or I feel that I should know you.” 

“We have met... after a fashion. My parents are Sunstream and Quicksilver, whom you met at Blue Mountain. They Recognized at the same moment you were finding your way back into your body, Chani.” 

Haken nodded. “Ah. The daughter of my ‘Runya.’ Little wonder. You have the air an elf should.” 

“What air is that?” 

“The air of one who knows her soul, and know what great things she is capable of. Too many of my scattered children have been taught to embrace limitations. To shun growth as madness. Not you.” 

Weatherbird smiled prettily. “That explains it.” 

“Explains what?” 

“Why most elves thing I’m a little... flighty in the head.” 

“Is your father here?” Chani asked. “I owe him many thanks for helping me back into my skin.” 

“Not just now,” Weatherbird chose her words carefully. “He is... preoccupied with the Palace.” 

“Hm, preoccupied with keeping it far from my evil clutches, you mean?” Haken drawled sarcastically. “No... I don’t suppose I can blame him.” He gave her a slight smile. “We will have to speak more of him, later.” 

* * * 

“He’s changed,” Venka said to Weatherbird as she joined them in Zhantee’s parents’ hut. 

“Yes,” Weatherbird nodded. “He’s... weightless now.” 

“What does he want?” Zhantee asked. 

Venka bit her lip. “His desires are most... complicated. Suffice to say he wants a family again. He found his great-grandson Door, and that was a start. Now he wants the Sun Folk.” 

Zhantee shrugged agreeably. “Well, I can’t say I’m going to think well of someone who tried to kill Timmain and wipe the Wolfriders out before they began.” He gave Venka’s shoulders a protective squeeze. “But if he has gentled with age... and if Savah trusts him, why shouldn’t we? The village is more than big enough for four new elves and one on the way.” He grinned. “Grayling’s little cub can have an agemate.” 

Weatherbird frowned. “These ‘complicated’ desires... Aunt Venka?” 

“I think it would be best for Haken to explain himself. As Chani said to us at their ‘Oasis,’ what we call the truth varies wildly from speaker to speaker. I would not presume to speak Haken’s truth for him.” 

Tass chewed on a piece of her long hair as she always did when she was nervous. Zhantee reached over and flicked it out of her mouth. 

“What’s biting you, hmm?” he teased. 

“I don’t trust Haken. And I don’t much care for Chani either. And if we let him become Lord of the Sun Folk–” 

“Tass,” Venka hissed meaningfully. 

“Is that what he wants?” Weatherbird sighed. 

“I think that oversimplifying,” Venka said. “Haken would say that he wished to be a protector of the Sun Folk.” 

“Like Winnowill was protector of Blue Mountain?” Tass challenged. 

“Like your grandfather was once protector of the Sun Folk. And like he is now protector of the Wolfriders,” Venka countered, and Tass fell silent. 

“You trust him, lifemate?” Zhantee asked. “If you trust him that’s enough for me.” 

“I trust his intentions are pure,” Venka hedged. “Whether his actions will out remains to be seen. But if Timmain of all elves is willing to swallow her anger and mistrust long enough to let Haken speak his piece, I think it is the least we can do.” 

* * * 

Haken spoke his piece. At Savah’s instructions, the grand welcoming feast Leetah and the Jackwolf Riders had planned was scaled down to a more humble affair. There were no dancers, little music. But as she had when the Wolfriders first came to Sorrow’s End, Savah told the story of the journey of the Rootless Ones, from green-growing place to Sorrow’s End. Haken and Chani listened with rapt attention from their place of honour, while Door and Spar sat at the far end of the dais, near Windkin and other familiar faces. 

“Our many generations lived in peace here,” Savah added when the tale was complete. “And even as my mother, my cousin, and even my children passed from this land, I remained, a living vessel of the memories. Yet I was but a child of eight-and-four when we arrived here, and of the time before the humans drove us from the woods, I always knew little. Only that my mother Hassbet was raised by her mother Ambet, who was the child of Vreya – a proud huntress who fought to find a safe place for us in the world – a place where we could be free of danger. My earliest memories are of tales of a time long before my birth, a time when humans drove us from our rightful home, a time when we Rootless Ones sought sanctuary in a mountain, only to have the humans follow us there. For ages I knew nothing more than that. Even as my spirit was trapped – briefly – in the mind of one from Blue Mountain, I had no idea we were close kin. Always there was a void in my memories, an emptiness I longed to fill with knowledge. And now that emptiness is no longer, for the Father of the Rootless Ones, the Father of the Sun Folk, has come to us at last.” 

A muted cheer went from the Sun Folk – a sudden rush of noise quickly caught as the villagers realized belatedly that cheers were not what Haken sought. 

Haken slowly rose from his seat. His gaze was distant. “I remember the day Vreya left Blue Mountain with Sunan and the other Rootless Ones. They did not like the stone roots I had created for them. They feared the humans would find a way to breach our mountain – or worse, we would smother ourselves in rock trying to hide from them. I remember my grief. She would die out there in the world, and the Rootless Ones would disappear. Only those of Blue Mountain would survive. And Vreya and those who left with her did die. But I was wrong. Death struck inside Blue Mountain, and I entombed myself in rock to escape the pain. When I awoke Blue Mountain had fallen under the weight of its own decay. Yet the Rootless Ones survived, and thrived. 

“I found my life again,” he glanced at Chani fondly, “and I was content to know my descendents lived on. Despite what others may think,” now he cast a sharp glance at Timmain, now once again in elf form, sitting as far from the dais as she could, “I do not desire to be master of all. But now your village is imperilled. The humans have caught up with you. Now my children need me. And so I have come.” 

“Father of us all–” someone called out before being quickly shushed. The rest of the villagers held their breath. 

Haken began to pace a little. “These humans are different, the Mother of Memory tells me. They don’t want to simply make a camp and sit still. They migrate like a herd of beasts, moving back and forth between the other packs. And the only way they can cross the desert from west to east is to cross through these mountains. There’s water in mountains and they know it. They may have stopped for now, but they will keeping coming until they know every rock in these hills. The village cannot survive as it is. You have a choice. To stay here, to shape taller walls to hide behind and fortify your huts, or to leave these hills, to become Rootless Ones once more, and to journey south to a place where humans would not dare to venture. 

“There is an oasis, some two eights-of-days south of here, hidden in the mountains of the World’s Spine. The cliffs are too steep for humans, but the soil is rich and the game is abundant. My lifemate and I, and our child’s grandson and his mate have laid the foundations for a sanctuary, far from the eyes of even the most ambitious human. If you choose, you can all come to our oasis and build a new village for your children.” 

Silence followed his speech. Such deathly stillness enveloped the Sun Folk that everyone could hear the beating of their own hearts. 

“So that’s his plan,” Zhantee whispered to Venka. “You knew about this?” 

**It’s not the first time we’ve considered it, lifemate.** 

Leetah stood up. “No,” she stammered. “No, we won’t leave Sorrow’s End. We can’t. This is our home.” 

Several elves murmured in agreement. 

Savah rose from her seat. “This is a choice every elf must make, a choice not to be made rashly. Weigh our grandfather’s words most carefully, for there will be plenty of time for debate in the days to come. Sorrow’s End was made to forever guard us against danger, and we will not abandon that which has so cared for us. Yet remember, my children, that nothing is eternal, and the day may soon come when the village will no longer hold us. And know that whatever may come to pass, the father of our kind has returned to guide us through the storm.” She held out her hand to Haken. 

A more resounding cheer went up from the Sun Folk. But there was anger in some voice – fear and worry breeding resentment. Zhantee’s mother Thamia set her goblet of cider down on the ground so sharply it tipped over. Alekah got up from the mat abruptly, leaving Grayling and Jari to chase after her. Scouter and Leetah were pointedly silent as everyone around them began talking at once. 

Haken sat back down in his stone chair, brooding. Chani reached out to touch his shoulder encouragingly. 

**Savah?** Ahdri asked as Savah slowly lowered herself back into her chair. She suddenly seemed very tired. 

**This is the end, Ahdri. No matter what happens, this is the end of one age. What this will be the beginning of... I can only imagine.**


	4. Chapter 4

The Sun Village fell into a strange sort of rhythm following Haken’s arrival. In many ways, life went on unchanged. The would-be warriors trained in self-defense classes with the Jackwolf Riders. The farmers planted one set of crops and harvested another. The scouts kept watch for humans while the rockshapers worked on the defensive walls. But now a new uncertainty hung in the air. Would all their efforts be for nothing in the end? Was Sorrow’s End doomed to fall? 

“We cannot leave Sorrow’s End,” Alekah announced as Grayling and Hansha joined her and Jari for the evening meal. It had become their habit to take their meals together, morning at Grayling’s hut, evening at Alekah’s. 

“You don’t need to tell me,” Grayling said. “The humans will be in Savah’s hut itself before I’ll be willing to leave.” 

“I don’t know...” Hansha murmured. 

“What are you saying?” Alekah threw down her little piece of bread in disgust. “That we should leave our home? My kitling isn’t going to be born in some far-flung mountain pass, a wanderer without a home!” 

“Our kitling,” Hansha retorted. 

“Come on, green eyes, you can’t mean that,” Grayling touched his shoulder. “We’re not going to pull out our roots and run just because a few humans are wandering nearby. Even if we left tonight, we’d take years to rebuild our village. Do you really want our cub born without a real home?” 

“Do you want to have to move five years later, or ten years, when our cub is a frightened child?” 

“It won’t come to that,” Alekah said firmly. 

“We hope...” Jari murmured. 

“Oh, Jari, you’re not going to say we have to leave.” 

“We aren’t the ones who need to leave.” 

Grayling tore off a piece of bread from the loaf. “Believe me, Jari, I’d love nothing more than frighten those humans off.” 

“Why frighten?” 

Grayling sniffed. “You have trouble wielding a cutting knife, Jari, and you want to hunt humans.” 

“I want you to hunt humans.” 

“We’re not murderers, Jari.” 

“You’re hunters aren’t you? When there’s a mountain lion that won’t leave off from our boundaries, don’t you go out and kill it?” 

Grayling shook his head. “It’s different. These are families of humans...” 

“Then hunt down the males.” 

“That’s just cruel, Jari.” 

“Well, what are we supposed to do, Hansha?” Jari erupted in uncharacteristic anger. 

Hansha looked at Grayling in turn. 

“I don’t know,” Grayling sighed. “I don’t know.” 

* * * 

Door added his strength to the rockshaping efforts. Small tremors constantly laced through the village, but the wall rose steadily in height. Slowly but surely, the gap in the ring of hills surrounding the village began to close up. 

“We will have to bring the wall all the way around the Bridge of Destiny,” Haken said. “And once this is finished, we will have to raise the cliffs higher. If the Wolfriders scaled the hills so easily to find Sorrow’s End all those years ago, you can be certain humans will have an easier time. If you are to stay here, you must make Sorrow’s End completely unattractive from the outside.” 

“You speak of a cage,” Ahdri murmured. 

“We have little choice, for now.” 

Chani cut long slings from a ravvit-hide and gathered several of the younger Sun Folk together for lessons. Her gown hitched up and girded about her waist, she paced up and down the line of maidens and youths while Leetah the Healer watched skeptically. “The sling is a simple weapon, but a powerful one. It’s easy to make, easy to carry, and you’ll never want for a supply of projectiles. It’s a little tricky to learn, but once you know how to release it, it’s no harder to aim than an atlatl or a spear.” 

The youth Katlen frowned. “It’s nothing better than a little toy, to shoot down ravvits and thistle-birds.” 

Chani bent down and picked up a stone. She slipped it into the sling and began to swing her weapon high over her head. “It may look like a child’s toy, but in the right hands...” she released the sling and the stone went flying, and snapped a branch off the nearby cloud-tree. “It can be as deadly as a bow-and-arrows. A well-aimed stone can cripple a bristle-boar on the run, kill a buck at thirty paces, or shatter a human’s skull when shot right between the eyes. And best of all, the sling is light enough to be used by the frailest elf, even a child.” 

Leetah got to her feet from the little chair on the sidelines. “You would turn even our children into warriors?” 

“Given time, I could turn even you into a warrior, healer.” 

“I save lives. I do not take them.” 

“No one wants to take lives. But do you want to sit by helpless as others die, because you have no weapon with which to defend them? The days are long gone when you can just hide behind a lad with a spear.” 

“You’ll turn us all into murderers if given a chance!” 

Chani heaved a sigh. “If you won’t join us, then please leave. You’re disrupting our training.” 

A ground-quake shook the village, and while the sturdy huts weathered the vibrations, everything that was not secured tightly fell to the ground. One of Hansha’s ovens cracked under the strain, extinguishing the fire within and ruining an iron spearhead he had been forging. The sounds of shattered pottery and snapped wood echoed through the village. 

“What are you doing?” Shushen shouted at Door and Ekuar. “What good is a rock wall if the village is in ruins inside it?” 

“Will nothing satisfy you chattering fools?” Door shot back. “You can’t have everything you want. You want a wall built now, built fast, but you can’t stand a tremor or two! You want to stay here in Sorrow’s End, but you won’t arm yourselves properly! You whine like the little human monkeys who used to beg me to give them immortal life – whine as though it were my fault the humans are sniffing around in your mountains!” 

And so village life endured the changes as the days passed. Spar and Chani made valiant attempts to befriend the Sun Folk, but their mates remained separated from the others. Besides Savah, Weatherbird and Venka spoke freely with Haken, and often Savah’s hut was the site of gentle debates. But the Sun Folk still quailed when they saw Haken walk around the village. Timmain spent her days in isolation, trying hard not to cross paths with her daughter or her enemy. The Jackwolf Riders were constantly on edge. 

“I fear my children are not adapting well to the many necessary changes,” Savah sighed, as she slowly descended the stairs into her underground chamber. Chani followed, taking care not to tread on the trailing hem of Savah’s spring-green gown. 

“It is hard to break old habits,” Chani said. 

Savah reached up and unfastened the hidden band that held her golden headdress in place. Chani stepped behind her to help her remove it. “It’s so light!” Chani exclaimed. “And all this time I wonder how you could manage it!” 

“Hansha the Metalworker made it for me many years ago, when he first found the secret to beating gold soft and flexible. A far cry from the woven reed and grass headpieces we first wore, when we were Rootless Ones.” 

Chani set the headpiece down on the small table in the little alcove that served as Savah’s dressing room. It was a spartan area, for Savah had little use for extravangance. Several golden ribbons lay on the table, next to combs, hairpins, and small jars of perfumed cream designed to soften wind-dried skin. 

“You are certain we are not imposing, occupying your sleeping area?” Chani asked again. “Haken and Fenn could easily shape a little dwelling in the hills–” 

“I wouldn’t hear of it. You are family. It gladdens my heart to have family so near.” She sighed wistfully. “It has been many years since I have shared my rooms with family. Dear Ahdri left my chambers years ago to live with Windkin. And I always meditate best knowing there are sleeping elves under my roof. It reminds me of the earlier days, I suppose, when the village was young and the laughter of children constantly rang within these walls.” 

Chani picked up a comb. “Did you bear many children?” 

“As many daughters and sons as fingers on my hands,” Savah smiled. She sat down in a little chair and fingered the hanging tapestries that adorned the walls. “Eight beautiful little children borne to four different fathers. And my mother herself bore five children. We raised them all as one family inside the very walls of this hut.” 

Chani moved behind Savah and skillfully began to undress her complex hairstyle. At first Savah stiffened at the unexpected touch, but she soon relaxed under Chani’s gentle touch. 

“I used to do this for your great-grandmother,” Chani explained. “She too had hair like wrapstuff, soft, easily snarled, and carefully braided. But for the colour I’d swear it was hers. Strange,” she murmured as she slowly unbraided Savah’s silver hair. “I was as a sister to your ancestor. Yet I am far younger than your many-times-grandchildren. Or at least this body is.” 

“No elf can claim such a life as you have lived, dear sister,” Savah said. 

Chani began to comb out the silk strands. Unbound, Savah’s hair reached past her waist. Chani smiled sadly. “My daughter’s hair never tangled – it was always slick and heavy as a waterfall. But I used to brush her hair too, and she flattered me by pretending it was necessary. Savah... we have never spoken of this, but it has weighed on my mind heavily. I... I know how you suffered at my daughter’s hands. And I know she is called the Loveless One among your children. Yet I hope one day you can forgive her for her wrongdoings. She was... very ill inside... dying of a lingering heartache.” 

“I know. And I know her cruelty came not from a pleasure in inflicting pain, but from a profound emptiness and a hunger to fill it, whatever the cost.” 

“Her brother’s death hurt her gravely. To lose your twin... your other half – I used to tease them when they were young, and call Runya the sun and Winnowill the moons. She become obsessed with isolating herself – all of us – in a cocoon of warmth and safety. I had hoped to steer her and Haken through our shared grief, so that the three of us could survive. But then I was gone, and so was Haken. Winnowill was only a few years younger than I – but she might as well have been a toddling child.” Chani closed her eyes tight to hold back the tears. “Oh... how I blamed myself for being luckless enough to die and abandon her and Haken both.” 

“Is it not the way of mothers, to bear the heaviest burdens without complaint, to seek the impossible to protect our families?” Savah looked down at herhands. “Eight beautiful children... all taken by time and the endless cycle of life and death. My grandchildren too.. and their grandchildren... yet I take comfort in knowing that their grandchildren thrive.” 

“As I take comfort in knowing my children are safe inside the Palace,” Chani said. “Truly, it was hard to leave their souls. Especially Winnowill. The time we shared together as sister-spirits was so short.” She resumed slowly brushing Savah’s hair. “But a part of my soul remains behind in the Palace even now, and I know their spirits will always be close by.” 

“May I ask you a question, sister?” 

“Of course.” 

“What is it like... to die?” 

Chani stepped away from the chair. “Ah.” 

Savah continued to inspect her hands. “I am Mother of Memory, a living storehouse of experiences for my children to draw upon. Yet there is one experience of which I know nothing. I have come close to death many times. I have seen it take my lifemate and children. And my spirit has flown far beyond the confines of my body, not least when I was a prisoner of Winnowill. Yet always a thin thread has tethered me to my body. What is it like when that thread snaps?” 

Chani paced about the room. She saw Savah’s imploring look and fumbled for words. “It is like.... Think of your body as a cup, and your spirit as the water inside. When you about in your skin, the cup is upright and your spirit is well contained. When you... ‘go out’ into the planes beyond this one, the cup is tipped on its side, and a single drop of water hangs off the edge, waiting to fall, but always clinging to the rim.” 

Savah nodded eagerly. 

“And... death... is when the cup overturns, and the water falls to the ground. Freed, it spreads out in all directions. You feel... lighter... larger somehow. Before you stood in a valley looking at distant mountains. Now you can somehow encompass the entire valley within your soul – and the mountains and beyond. There are no boundaries, no constraints. It is... very liberating. And very terrifying. You are... a mote of dust on the wind... and it takes a seeming eternity to learn how to navigate that wind. But in time... you settle... you adapt. And you become aware of... so much.... so much you never knew existed.” Her eyes darkened. “Yet there is a wall where there was none before... and the world you once knew is denied you. You see fleeting glimpses of the world you left... and at times it seems you can reach out and almost touch it. But you never can. It is a small price to pay, some might say. But for who were not ready to leave their skin....” 

“And that is why you came back?” 

“It was hard to enter my body again. Very hard. Even with the power of the Palace I had to force my way through that wall. But I wanted it.” She held up her hands and slowly turned them about in the light. “I needed to. There was so much... left unfinished.” 

Savah rose from her chair. “And what is it like... to be back in your skin after so many years spent in spirit only?” 

“It is... a most curious existence.” She ran one hand over the other. “I am aware of my skin as never before. It feels... confining... but pleasantly so, like a garment worn a little too tightly. I feel everything more sharply, every sensation is multiplied ten-fold. The world... seems more alive than ever before.” 

Savah nodded. “You are fortunate.” Her gaze was oddly distant. 

“Savah? What is it?” 

Savah touched the bare wall where the tapestries did not cover. “As you were once separated from your lifemate by death, so I am kept from mine. Yurek. I was but eight-and-four when we Recognized the first time. And I idolized him as a child does her elders. But as our family grew so did our love, until I was able to look upon him not as a leader I needed to please, but as another part of myself. For many, many happy years we governed Sorrow’s End together, he and I. But he gave himself up to the task of rockshaping. His life’s work consumed him so that his soul left his body and went into the rock itself.” She spread her fingers out over the rock and smiled at the warmth she found. “He is still here, even now. His strength of will allowed his spirit to remain forever in these mountains, rather than being drawn by the pull of the Palace. His spirit protects us, lends strength to Ahdri’s shaping powers. And I am never without him.” The rock seemed to soften under her touch, and she imagined she saw four finger-shaped ridges rise out of the rock to interlace with her fingers. But then the moment passed and the rock hardened once more. “But he is always just out of reach. Often I have thought that if I did not have my children to care for... I might wish to join him. Yet if the humans force us from Sorrow’s End... I may lose him forever.” 

Chani touched her shoulder. “Come to Oasis with us. Convince your children to leave this place. Yurek’s soul will surely follow you south through the World’s Spine.” 

“I could never leave this place. It is... my life.” 

“What does Yurek say?” 

Savah opened her mouth, but no words came. 

Footsteps down the stairs made the elf-women turn. Haken descended into the chamber, a scowl on his face. Chani hastened to his side. Wrapping her slender arms about his shoulders, she touched her forehead to his. 

“Mm, what troubles my lord so?” 

Haken sighed wearily. “I am a prisoner under watch. I cannot take two steps without a pair of eyes on me. That... that little flea is always chasing my shadow. Timmain’s cursed Preserver is always buzzing about. Petalwing! We should have roasted it for a meal back at Blue Mountain.” 

Chani kissed him tenderly. “Flitrin will smother it in sand soon enough. And don’t fret about Tass. Fleas are beneath my lord’s caring.” 

Haken smiled. “You ever are my dearest comfort. You and our grandchildren.” Then his temper returned and he collapsed in Savah’s chair, fuming once more. “Even Weatherbird is more a guard than a pupil! Oh, I can see her father’s hand in this. ‘Charm him, but keep him in line.’ I was Lord of Blue Mountain! I cannot endure this... trial! As though I were an errant child being let out of his room for the first time after a tantrum.” 

“Trust must be earned slowly, Grandfather,” Savah said gently. 

“Trust...” he sneered. “I had no need to prove myself worthy of trust in the past.” But then his anger withered, and he looked up at Savah imploringly. “All I desire is to protect my kind. To be a leader and provider. Wanting only the best for others... taking matters into one’s own hands... when did that become a fault? It is all her doing! She has as much blood on her hands as I – more! Yet they revere her as their mother, and fear me as a creature more loathed than humans!” 

Chani moved behind him and began massaging his shoulders gently. “Prove them all wrong. Prove her wrong. We have lost everything, but we will rebuild it all and more besides. There will be your revenge.” 

A wry smile touched Haken’s lips. He turned to his lifemate to speak, but an open sending to the entire village caught them all by surprise. 

**Humans! Humans at our outer wall!** 

Haken leapt to his feet and made for the steps. A low growl built in Chani’s throat and she began to follow. A subtle charge in the air hinted at an imminent shapeshifting. 

“No,” Haken turned back to her. “Stay here. Guard Savah.” 

For a moment Chani hesitated. Then the aura surrounding her faded. She nodded. A slight smile of understanding passed between them, then Haken turned and sprinted up the steps. 

* * * 

This time the intruders were no mere mated pair. Ten large humans males were among the squat-needles and sticker-plants. All were armed with spear and clubs. The late afternoon light cast sharp shadows over the rocks, and the elfin warriors ably concealed themselves in strategic positions, watching their prey closely. 

The humans were all grumbling to each other, and Wing and Windkin strained to hear their chatter and translate. **They’re on the lookout for cats, I think,** Wing sent. **They want to make sure they aren’t ambushed like the others. That lead male, the one with the tattoos on his face... he’s saying something about... joy? Happiness? This word ‘ka-a-reth.’ We’ve never been able to translate it.** 

**Wealth,** came a clipped response. Grayling twisted in his hiding place, looking for some sign of the Glider. But Door, wherever he was, was keeping himself well concealed. 

**Where are you, Door?** 

**Near my kin of the winds. Don’t sweat so, jackwolf. I’ve been dealing with humans far longer than you.** 

**Aye, and not too well from what I’ve heard. Windkin – sit on him if you have to! We’re keeping a den-hide at all costs.** 

**And who, Wolfrider, will sit on me, I wonder?** came Haken’s taunt. 

Grayling bit back a retort about Timmain, but thought better of it. **I’ll call Tass myself if need be, High One,** he vowed instead. **All of you. Hold your ground. I give the order to shoot, and I alone. Do you hear me, Scouter?** 

Scouter’s surly reply came a moment late. **I hear my chief.** 

The men slowly climbed up into the rocks, poking into crevices for small animals. The elves could not tell which one was the leader, for both the tall tattooed one – well muscled but with a thick layer of fat about his shoulders and waist – and his companion, a leaner hunter, seemed in positions of authority. 

**Steady,** Grayling warned. **We’ll give them every chance to pass us by.** 

**And if they come up over the rocks?** Haken asked. **Might I suggest something more effective than simply shooting them all and waiting for more to come looking for their bodies?** 

**What is that?** 

**I know a thing or two about humans. They need a little shove now and then to make them understand. But they learn quickly. And with the proper persuasion, they’ll see that their god does not want them here.** 

**You mean reveal ourselves and our powers? No. The risk is too great.** 

**There is nothing wrong in establishing our superiority, Wolfrider. What humans does not understand, they inevitably destroy... or worship. And I think it is in our best interests to attract their worship, not their emnity.** 

**Grandfather is right,** Door sent. **They must learn to fear us before they realize we fear them.** 

**I’d rather they never know of us. Invisibility is a far better shield than godhead.** 

**You may not have a choice,** Haken sent. And Grayling saw that we was right. The humans were now ascending the steep hillside as Swift and Skywise once had so long ago. 

Grayling watched them come closer, heard the almost-inaudible sound of Scouter drawing back his bowstring taught. Quickly the chief weighed his options. He could not allow the humans any further. But massacring them all would only provoke further scouting parties. 

“Do you want to spend the rest of your life perched on this rock, just waiting to pick off anyone who comes in sight?” 

Swift had said those words to Strongbow, a lifetime ago. 

**Wing, Scouter. An arrow at their feet. Nothing more!** 

Two arrows whizzed out from the rocks, landing in the loose earth at the sandaled feet of the two leaders. The humans leapt back, swearing loudly in their guttural speech. 

**Dodia, Halek. Two arrows behind the laggard’s feet.** 

Another two arrows struck the earth behind the rear of the human party. As the humans panicked and huddled together, Grayling gave the order for the other archers to fire. Soon a circle of arrows and atlatl darts surrounded the humans. Sust and Coppersky readied their spear and dagger for the killing stroke if it came to that. 

The humans cried out into the night, imploring their attackers to show themselves. 

At Grayling’s urging, Wing cleared his throat and affected as deep and powerful a voice he could. 

“Humans!” he shouted in their tongue, his voice echoing off the rocks. “Go back. Ma-nak no want you here. These rocks are Ma-nak’s rocks. No humans here. We... children of Ma-nak. And we guard rocks. Go back. Leave sand and rock. Ma-nak say go! This not your land!” 

The tattooed human shouted back. “We are Children of Manach too! We come here in answer of Manach’s call–” 

“No!” Wing shouted. “No call you. Go back! This land not for humans. This land for... spirits and Ma-nak. Go back. Go back or die, say Ma-nak!” 

**Door. Persuade them. But don’t you dare kill them.** 

Spires of jagged stone rose up from the ground, barring their way up the hillside. Grayling howled loudly, and the other Riders mimicked him. Soon the distant jackwolf pack heard the call and joined in. The screaming human turned and ran. Only the lean hunter paused long enough to yank an arrow up out of the ground. 

“Go!” Wing shouted over the noise. “Go now!” 

The humans needed no further urging. They ran as fast as their legs could carry them. Coppersky and Sust burst out laughing. The Sun Folk jeered and whooped with delight. But Grayling was silent. 

**Well done,** Haken sent. 

**They’re frightened now. But they’ll be back.** 

**Then we will drive them off again. Humans have not changed so much since I ruled them.** 

Curse him. Curse him for his smug arrogance. And curse that he was right. Grayling's hand was forced and they all knew it. 

**We keep a scout eyes-high at all times, as before. We keep working on the wall. And we’ll plan some new tricks for our friends, if they decide to come back. Wing. I want you to teach Haken the human speech. You have nice sharp voice, my lord,** he could not keep the sneer out of his sending. **You can pass for a human demon-spirit better than Wing.** 

He abandoned his hiding place and hiked back towards the village. 

“I trust you appreciate the restraint I have shown around you and your little savages, child!” Haken shouted at Grayling’s back. 

“We are most grateful, my lord.” Grayling shot back over his shoulder. 

Slowly the Riders dispersed. Door, Windkin, Sust and Coppersky lingered at Haken’s side. Sust whistled low as Grayling’s silhouette disappeared over the ridge. “He and his sister share their temper. And I think he’s picked up a bit of Rayek’s venom along the way.” 

Coppersky smiled approvingly. “He’s a good chief.” 

“He fears risk,” Haken said. “Complacency is bred into this land.” 

“He is our chief,” Windkin warned. “And if you cross him, it will be as if you crossed Savah. You may be powerful, Haken, but even you can’t force the Sun Folk to your will.” 

Haken glared at him. “Now, I thought better of you, Windkin.” He turned and levitated himself back up to the plateau above them. 

* * * 

Aballan awoke to the shouts of women and children. He rolled over in his bed, moaning softly. It was scarcely light outside the tipi. 

“Master!” the boy Kasmar cried as he yanked the flaps of the tipi open. 

Aballan sighed. “I am a weary old man. You had better have a reason for disturbing my precious sleep!” 

“Come quickly. It is... a sign!” 

Aballan moaned. A bird had probably dropped dead in some fool’s cooking pot. 

He slowly rose, fighting through the aches in his joints. He was too old to be up and about so early. Lacing his long hide kilt about his legs, he tottered after the boy towards the boundary stones that marked the limits of camp. Their pack animals had to be kept beyond the circle, and no bodily excrement or women’s blood could pollute the ground inside the stones. In return Manach would bless the campground and keep those inside safe from wild animals and disease. 

He gasped. Tarach and the hunters had returned ahead of schedule. They were now limping into camp, exhausted, their clothing torn, their lips chapped and parched. 

“What is it, my near-son?” Aballan rushed to his side. “What happened? You were not due back for ten more days. Did you find a safe route along the mountains?” 

“Paugh!” Tagon shouted. “The mountains! The mountain are infested with demons!” 

“Demons?” 

“Oh, Master,” Tarach gasped out around the rim of a bowl of water his woman offered him. “Such things we have seen.” 

“Tell me quickly. Spare no detail.” 

“It was late afternoon, not three days past. We were... we were exploring the hillsides. And suddenly arrows flew from the very rocks – well crafted arrows like those used by the Eastern Clans. And the rocks rose up like claw molded by invisible hands. And a voice spoke from the rocks. It called itself a spirit, a child of Manach. It told us to flee, for we had trespassed on sacred ground. And then such a noise. Howling of wolves. We fled. We have run the entire way back here.” 

“Demons!” Tagon snapped again. 

“Speak more plainly. Did you see what spoke?” 

“No, Master. I saw nothing. Only the voice. Harsh, with a strange accent, as though his spirit tongue could not form the words properly. And the arrows, they came from all around us, encircling us.” 

“Were you hurt?” 

“No. But the voice threatened death if we returned. It told us that we misread Manach’s signs, that Manach did not call us here after all. It told us to leave the sand and rock and return to our homeland, or we would all suffer death. Why, it was these spirits that killed Amar and Arlach. It must have been!” 

Tagon snorted. “We have no proof of that!” 

“Calm yourselves!” Aballan instructed. “I will speak to all of you one by one, and we will make some sense of this.” 

The shaman interviewed each of the men in the privacy of his tipi, away from the prying eyes and ears of the others. The stories conflicted somewhat, but the picture they painted was the same. Creatures lived in the Mountains of the Sun. And they did not want the humans there. 

“What are they, Master?” Tarach asked when the interviews were complete. 

“I believe... they may the spirits the Repentant encountered.” 

Tarach frowned. “Aye, that would make sense. But... Master, surely if they are the spirits who saved the Repentant, they would welcome us as true believers.” 

“One would think,” Aballan murmured. His mind raced. The hidden creatures had invoked Manach’s name. And they had told the humans to leave or risk Manach’s wrath. But Manach wanted the Red Rock Clan to prosper in the Mountains of the Sun. Aballan knew it. And the scouts had not seen the creatures, after all. Perhaps they were not spirits at all, but other men who seeked to usurp the Clan’s standing as master traders. 

“I need to think,” Aballan murmured. 

But Tagon would not allow him the luxury of thought. He ambushed the aging shaman that very night at the communal meal. 

“What are these creature who claim to speak for Manach, but hide from us and bar our way?” Tagon demanded. He held up the arrow he had pried from the ground. “Look at it. It’s the size of a child’s toy!” 

“Are you saying those were children who attacked us?” Tarach countered. 

“Hardly. But I doubt they were blessed spirits of Manach! They could not even speak our tongue properly!” 

“And who are you to interpret the signs Manach gives us?” Aballan snapped. “These signs are complex. I must meditate on them.” 

“The message is clear enough!” Tarach said. “Manach does not want us to here.” 

“Then we left the safety of our homeland for nothing!” Tagon snapped. 

Aballan thought quickly. “We left our homeland to open trade across the barren lands.” 

“And what a fine trade it is,” Tagon shot back. “Our horses can scarely manage the journey north across the sands. And we’ve had no luck taming those... those hump-shoulders! Filthy beasts – barely bit for food. The water here lies so deep underground we must toil daily to maintain the well! No, old man. You have taken us this far. You promised us prosperity and the blessings of Manach! Are you saying now that your vision was flawed?” 

Aballan stiffened. Never had Tagon so openly questioned him. The hunter was growing too bold. 

But he was right. The land was poor. Few roots or tubers could be gathered from the sandy soil. Their camp faced the north and the unpredictable desert storms. And their route across the desert was barely navigable. No, they would never establish themselves as traders if they had to ford the sands that lay north. Only by following the line of mountains east – and praying that those mountains eventually joined the fertile land beyond the desert – could they prosper. Only then would Aballan’s vision be vindicated. The future in trade and agriculture, not in hunting and foraging like some beast. 

But how could Aballan ignore the warning delivered by the creatures in the rocks, beings as small as children yet with the power to make the rocks flow like water? 

“Well, shaman?” Tagon taunted. 

“Silence, boy, lest I cast a punishment upon your loose tongue. It is not for you to question he who speaks for Manach. I will make the appropriate offerings to Manach. He will give me a clear sign.” 

Aballan returned to his tipi. He stoked the cooling coals and threw fragrant herbs over them to create the necessary vision-smoke. He painted his collarbone with red mud, then placed a hawk’s feather over the coals. As the feather began to sizzle and burn he waited patiently for a revelation. 

No vision came. 

Were the creatures truly the same spirits of Manach who had saved the Repentant from certain death? But if so they they had journeyed all the way into the desert for nothing. 

No. No, to admit defeat was to admit his vision was flawed. And it would meant the end of him. Perhaps the end of the shaman’s place in the Clan entirely. 

By sunrise on the follow morning he was no closer to peace of mind. He had stayed up all night in the hopes exhaustion would fuel a vision. But still he had no clue how to proceed. 

Tagon sat down next to him, his spear in his lap. “Listen, old man,” he whispered low. “You have a choice. You can tell the people that you’ve misread the signs, and brought us here against Manach’s will. And if you do, they I will see you declare yourself a false shaman and accept banishment from the tribe. Or... you can decide that you will conquer these mountains no matter what a mob of demon-children say. You can denounce their magic as witchcraft born of Gotara or some other creature of darkness. And you can marshal the warriors of the Western Clans behind you and lead a Sacred War against them.” 

Aballan stiffened. “But what if... they are spirits of Manach? Would you invite damnation on us?” 

Tagon smiled tightly. “You’ve always said that none can question a shaman’s vision. Especially when weighed against the words of beastly shadow-demons no bigger than children.” 

“You don’t know that.” 

“I know any creature that kills by arrows can surely die by arrows.” 

“Oh... I know you would love nothing more than to enlist the aid of the Western Clans... the clans where the shamans have long since ceded authority to the hunters.” 

“Now, now, old man. I’m giving you a chance to see your grand vision fulfilled. The mountains will be ours. You’ll have your trade route. I’ll have the prized title of Defender of Manach and my undisputed place as chief hunter. Come. It is almost High Summer. We will go to Assembly in one month’s time and urge the other clans to join us in a new Sacred War. No matter what black magic the shadow-demons possess, they will not be able to overpower two hundred strong warriors. We will own the Mountains of the Sun, the greatest trophy any chief could hope to claim.” 

Aballan weighed his words carefully. Yes... it was true that he had often longed for the days when blasphemy existed to be rooted out. A Sacred War could unite the Children of Manach in purpose like nothing else. And what a legacy he would leave... 

But the lingering fear that they were indeed transpassing on Manach’s sacred ground make him hesitate. 

“If we return to our homeland in disgrace I’ll see that no shaman ever holds power in the clan again,” Tagon promised. “No more eating double-portions while others go hungry. No more pick of women. No more mouthpiece of Manach. You know I can do it, old man. All the hunters support me. Now... I want you to think very carefully about what I’ve said. Kill a bird and examine its entrails if you want. Sweat and chant and let yourself hear Manach’s guidance. But make sure you are seeing the right signs.” 

Aballan was sullenly quiet. At length: “Why give me a choice? Why not declare me a false shaman, claim leadership of the clan, and turn us all west to our homeland? Why do you want this war?” 

“My father collected scalps of the Blasphemers he killed. A shadow-demon’s scalp is a far greater prize, is it not?” He got to his feet and glanced at the distant mountains. “Besides,” he added more softly. “I don’t like my way being barred. Not even by gods.” 

Aballan held his head in his hands and wept. 

He had gambled and lost. Either way, Tagon would win. 

Unless... he could gamble for even higher stakes... and usurp Tagon’s power at the moment of the hunter’s greatest victory. 

A new Sacred War. One in which they would not only eliminate the creatures that barred their progress, but the arrogant hunters as well. Tagon thought he could control the hearts and minds of brute men, but he knew nothing of true manipulation. Who knew what powers the demons might have... powers only a shaman could hold in check. And who knew what witchcraft could strike Tagon down on the eve of battle? 

A call to arms. Yes. The future of the shaman’s line depended on it. 

The mountains would be theirs. And whatever lived within them – spirits, demons, or simply beasts with the powers of speech – would fall before the true Children of Manach.


	5. Decision

A month passed with no sign of the humans. Timmain remained eyes-high constantly, sometimes as a jackwolf, sometimes as a hawk. Yet the Sun Folk blithely returned to their old way of life. The training yard was abandoned, and the weavers brought their looms back into the sunshine. The Jackwolf Riders lolled about the village with their friends and lifemates, rising only to hunt for meat. Jarrah coaxed her lifemate Ekuar away from the rock wall, and even Ahdri was beginning to neglect her important task. 

“This disgusts me!” Haken raged. “The humans are gone for now, true. But they’ll come back, either to worship us or make war. Yet they all return to their own little games – like children!” 

“Have a little pity, Haken,” Venka said. “This is all new for them.” 

“They’ve become withered, unable to cope with change.” 

“As the Gliders were?” Venka countered smoothly. 

He scowled. “Yes. And I will not see the past repeat itself with the Sun Folk.” 

Haken called an assembly of all the Sun Folk to once again press them to reimagine their way of life. He paced under the lanterns as he regarded the tribe of farmers and hunters. “You cannot simply return to the old ways as though nothing has happened! Stagnation and complacency are eating away your defenses. Work on the defenses have scarcely progressed since the humans left. Should the savages return you will be just as defenseless as before.” 

“We defended ourselves just fine!” Shushen called out from his mat. “And the humans ran like scared ravvits!” 

“And now I see arrogance is rearing its head too,” Haken sneered. 

“You would know something of that,” Tass hissed. 

“Peace, my children,” Savah said from her throne. “And Grandfather–” 

But Haken was giving full vent to his frustrations. “You all think your problems can be solved by others! First you all depended on Venka’s father to protect you. Then the Jackwolf Riders. Now you expect me and my family to magically shield you from all danger so you can continue your blind little existence! Would one of you – even a Jackwolf Rider – survive more than two nights if plucked from this village and thrown into the deep desert? You remind me of the Firstcomers, they who so cherished their delicate taste of experience, but had no skills to survive when their ‘paradise’ turned capricious and cruel. I’ve been among you for over two months and I’ve been sorely disappointed by my children!” 

“Haken–” Chani counseled softly. 

“Who among you longs for growth? You are so certain you have your ‘paradise’ that you think you need do nothing to sustain it. You think life means simply accepting what comes your way and going from day to day in simple pleasure and simple frustrations!” 

Ahdri got to her feet. “That’s not fair. We Sun Folk have struggled in the past. We have overcome great hurdles and grown stronger because of them.” 

“You mean when Smoking Mountain erupted so many years past? Or when a drought brought seasons of poor harvests? Or when a plague of insects destroyed your crops? Did those shake the very foundations of your society? No. Do you remember them now as anything more than pleasant tales to tell about the evening meal? Your world has remained unchanged since the Rootless Ones first settled here!” 

“Our world has grown immeasurably,” Ahdri said. “When I was born we thought ourselves the only elves in the world. We thought magic was dead in the world. I have seen the arrival of new elves. I have watched the ancient powers return to our kin. I have kindled those powers in my own heart. The Palace has been restored and with it the power to unite all our minds as one – as you well know!” 

“And has your village changed? Has your way of life?” 

Leetah got to her feet. “High One or no, who are you to tell us we must change? You come here, not three months ago, and you tell us to move south and live under your watchful gaze. We tell you we are staying put, and you tell us all the different ways we don’t measure up to your ideal!” 

Haken shook his head. “I want you to be mindful of the dangers that exist beyond this feeble wall of rock.” 

“You speak of growth,” Scouter drawled. “Your other children, the Gliders – they didn’t grow. They withered away and died entombed in stone. I saw their sanctuary in rock myself!” 

Haken clenched his fists tight and looked away. But there was sorrow in his eyes. 

“Our children thought themselves above all change,” Chani said softly, yet her voice carried across the sandy square. “And they died because of it. We do not intend to repeat their mistakes.” 

“You have no right to tell us how to live our lives!” Scouter said. 

“Please, my children,” Savah said. “Our father speaks out of love and concern.” 

Tass snorted audibly. Venka elbowed her hard in the ribs. 

Savah rose. “He speaks of fears I have often struggled with in my darker hours. The world is changing so quickly – much more quickly than I might have imagined. The humans I remember only dimly as beasts no more cunning than bears now create villages of their own, now cross this world of ours in great migratory herds, trading in goods they themselves have created. So much has changed, yet we remain changeless. This state cannot endure. No, we are not wilted, my children. We are a carefully tended plot of earth that bears fruit which blooms and fades with each passing year. But I would see us become a wild patch of greenery that overflows the bounds of its garden. The Wolfriders shattered our way of life all those years ago. I would see our lives shattered once more, and reborn anew. 

“I could never leave Sorrow’s End. This is my home, as surely as if I had been born here. Yet the humans may return. Smoking Mountain may reawaken. The days of simply tending our gardens and living from moment to moment must pass. We must all dedicate ourselves to becoming more than we are today.” 

“How?” Alekah asked. “By becoming warriors – Wolfriders? Or by becoming Gliders?” 

Scouter made a growling sound low in the back of his throat. Haken heaved a frustrated sign and collapsed on his stone seat. 

Zhantee sheepishly raised his hand. “Can I... speak?” 

Savah bade him rise. Zhantee rubbed the back of his neck in embarassment. “I... I’ve lived with the Wolfrider for an elder’s age, fathered a Wolfrider... but I’d never think to call myself one. But... the Wolfriders... they make things happen. Things that make me stretch. And... I like facing all the tests my chief throws at me. When I was young,” he glanced over at his parents, Thamia and Moren, “I was always safe. Too safe. I can still remember what all the ruling voices of his childhood would warn. ‘Musn’t take risks, little one. Musn’t try to touch the sky.’ And I always believed that. But when the Wolfriders came here... I learned to take risk. I learned to... to stretch. And if I hadn’t... I never would have found my shielding powers, I never would have found my new tribe and I never would have found my lifemate.” Now he smiled at Venka and she gave his hand an affectionate squeeze. Zhantee glanced around the village square. “Coming back here... it always feels so safe. But you know... it isn’t always good to be safe. And... I think... in this new world... with these humans spreading faster than we ever thought they could... I think we all need to stretch a little more.” 

Savah smiled. “Well spoken, Zhantee.” 

Rayek’s mother Jarrah sighed a little sadly. “We’re not all magic-users.” 

“Everyone has hidden strengths to find,” Weatherbird said. “Even strengths that don’t seem little they matter much.” 

“I know I used to think ‘Oh, I’m nothing special,’” Zhantee added. “‘I’m just ordinary.’ But... and I know this sounds silly, but I don’t think any of us is ordinary.” 

“Doesn’t sound silly at all, lifemate,” Venka whispered fondly. 

“I can help you all discover new strengths,” Savah offered. “As can Haken and Chani. A rebirth is long overdue.” 

“The coming storm is almost upon us,” Sun-Toucher said cryptically. “We have a choice, to burrow into the sand and hope for some miracle, or to stand up and face the winds bravely. To welcome the challenges that come our way.” 

“We won’t leave Sorrow’s End!” Leetah snapped abruptly. 

“Then we must work doubly hard to make Sorrow’s End safe,” Haken said. “We sent these humans fleeing like the beasts they are. But we’ve no guarantee the next ones who come sniffing by will be such easy prey.” 

“Elves and humans can live side by side,” Venka said. “The Islanders of the New Land have done so for millennia. The Great Holt is little more than two days’ journey from the nearest human encampment, yet they give us no trouble.” 

“Door and I have had less success in the Forevergreen,” Spar said. 

“Yes,” Windkin nodded. “We can’t assume that what works with one human tribe will work with another.” 

“We must resume work on the defenses,” Haken said. “And we must prepare a plan for the next time humans come sculking about. No more Now of Wolf-thought. No more acting on the whim of the moment. We are between harvests, yes? Then the farmers have no need to toil in the fields.” 

“Would you have us shape rock?” Jari demanded. 

“You can move rock by other means than magic. You can plough up the ground to make it look far less hospitable. You can uproot the prickle-plants to disguise the presense of underground water.” 

“And you can build another mill to aid Behtia in her work,” Chani added. “You have stockpiles of grain waiting to be milled. I find it amazing you never built another one.” 

Behtia shrugged. “Mine already does the work of three grinding stones,” she spoke up. 

Chani smiled. “All the more reason to make another. There is no reason anyone should be milling their grain by hand.” 

“The weapons’ training must continue,” Haken insisted. “Every adult elf should know how to defend themselves.” 

“You’re not our lord,” Shushen grumbled. 

“You cannot order us about as if we were the Chosen Eight,” Scouter added. 

“And if I suggest that Haken’s ideas have merit, and ought to be explored?” Savah asked gently. 

Scouter tried to look graceful. “Well, that’s different.” 

Grayling rose. “We’ll resuming training. And we’d... be glad of any guidance you have to offer us, Haken. But–” 

“But you are Sun Folk, not Gliders,” Chani finished smoothly. 

The meeting ended on an oddly optimism note, yet more than one Sun Villager left the square pondering just what the “rebirth” Savah spoke of entailed. The Jackwolf Riders clustered about their chief, seeking reassurances. 

“I don’t like it,” Wing muttered. “Why are we suddenly supposed to turn ourselves inside out? Why the urgency?” 

“I understand well,” Ahdri said as she and Windkin joined the Riders. “Sometimes the greatest transformations must take place suddenly, without warning.” 

“I remember when Dart and I first looked for volunteers to become hunters,” Grayling mused. “Shushen, I remember how you fretted about it. You didn’t like change anymore then than you do now.” 

“I don’t trust Haken,” Shushen said simply. Several others nodded. 

“And what does Savah mean about discovering new strengths and powers?” Mahree asked. “Do they intend to turn us all into magic-users?” 

“Now, that stinks of Blue Mountain,” Scouter growled. 

“You need a new song, Scouter,” Windkin quipped. 

“Oh, we all know you’re bending to Haken’s words. Your loyalties are always to your father’s kin!” 

Windkin clenched his fists. “Don’t you bring my father into this, Wolfrider, unless you’re ready to see this through.” 

“Oh, enough!” Grayling ordered. “Nearly six hundred years and I thought you two would have given up that old feud. Look, do you all trust that I’m keeping eyes-high? Then don’t worry about Haken or what was said tonight. We’re not going to become something we’re not. We’re not going to abandon Sorrow’s End to build a new Blue Mountain. All we have to worry about is tightening our defenses for when the next band of humans decide to come sniffing around. Agreed?” 

The Jackwolf Riders nodded. And the meeting dispersed. Grayling looped an arm about his lifemate’s shoulder. “Let’s go home, Hansha,” he sighed wearily. “This night’s taken a lot out of me.” 

Hansha gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. **You’re a good leader, Kel. Everything will work out, you’ll see.** 

* * * 

Another month slowly passed and Hansha’s prediction seemed to be bearing out. Timmain found no more signs of humans, yet no one could convince her to return to the village. Instead she remained on patrol a day’s ride out, keeping her eyes ever fixed on the western desert. 

The farmers and potters abandoned their idle summer days and set to work in the needle-mound patches, uprooting squat-needles and sticker-plants, then ploughing the sandy soil in uneven mounds to disguise the area. Haken carefully shaped the rocks where the humans had been ambushed, changing the contours of the land. The Jackwolf Riders hunted and stockpiled meat to be smoked and set aside, in case of den-hides. The ruling council met often to discuss strategies for dealing with future human intruders. Grayling and Venka maintained that den-hide was preferrable, but failing that, some manner of peaceful co-existence as was practiced in the Great Holt should be attempted. War was the final option, despite Haken’s frequent arguments that humans only worshipped and respected that which they feared. 

Somehow, overnight it seemed, the Firstcomer had gone from a semi-exile under close watch to Savah’s equal and an active member in the council. Little wonder Timmain remained outside the village bounds. 

Chani continued instructing the younger elves in the uses of the sling, and to Grayling’s amazement even confirmed pacifists like Vurdah and Ruffel took up the weapon, though it was clear they considered it little more than an amusing toy. Leetah pointedly refused any weapon’s training, insisting that the moment she learned to hurt another living thing, she ceased to be a true healer. Even good natured attempts from Scouter and Shushen to failed to coax her to the training yard. 

“What about my sister’s mate Rain?” Scouter teased. “He knows how to hunt as well as heal?” 

“Perhaps a Wolfrider sees no conflict, but I do,” she insisted. 

“Ah, leave her be, Scouter,” Shushen lay back, his head in Leetah’s lap. “She’s too pampered, our little lovemate. With two strong lads to look after her, what does she need a weapon for?” 

Leetah laughed then, the first real laugh she had uttered in eights-of-days. “When have you ever looked after me, Shushen? I might as well call you my son for all I have to mother you.” 

“A fine mother you’d make if you’d treat your son as you do me,” Shushen teased back. 

Hansha continued to manufacture new iron spearheads and short-sword for the elves. It was no brightmetal, but it was more than a match for the stone used by the humans. Still, he overcame his shyness to ask Haken and Chani if they could one day help him find a combination of metals to make an approximation of the tougher brightmetal. 

“I don’t think these mountains will give you what you need,” Haken said bluntly. “Bone and blackstone may be best for arrowheads and spears.” At Hansha’s disappointed expression he softened. “But there’s no reason why we cannot experiment.” 

“Your determination is most admirable,” Chani added diplomatically. “And I’ve no doubt you and your workers will succeed at anything you attempt.” 

Hansha took some time away from his production of iron weapons to take some of the soft gold he had saved and temper it with silver. Curious passerbys came to examine the creation of what appeared to be a golden skullcap, but Hansha gently refused to answer their many queries. The bulk of his work on the cap was performed inside the hut, out of sight. Only when he was completely finished did he unveil his creation. 

“It’s for you,” he blurted out as he presented it to Chani. The simple skullcap design had become an elaborate lion’s-head headdress. Into the golden cap were moulded empty eyes and a lion’s nose, the tip coloured with a more silver-rich alloy. Below the nose dropped two strings of gold chains designed to mimic a muzzle and whiskers. Two golden spires framed the wearer’s face and served as cheek guards. Behind the cap he had painstakingly attached golden hawk’s feathers, strengthened with invisible gold wires. A carefully woven band of leather secured the headdress in place behind the wearer’s head. 

Chani looked at the headdress in wonder. “Why?” she stammered at length. 

“Because the Lady of the Gliders deserves nothing less,” Hansha answered promptly. 

Chani slipped the headdress on. It fit her face perfectly, the two strings of gold chain framing her leonine eyes. 

“Pull it down,” Hansha prompted. “I think it should fit that way too.” 

Chani looked at him, quizzically. Then she slid the headdress down. The countours of the cap fit her face as well, and suddenly the headdress became a mask. Her eyes peered out from within the lion’s empty sockets. The golden whisker-chains tinkled softly against her jawline. 

“A mask. Whatever led to think of it?” 

“Oh... I thought about what Haken being saying about humans believing in spirits and demons and gods and how we and even our jackwolves can pass ourselves off as things we’re not, and I got to thinking about masks... and becoming something we’re not – except that you can become a lioness, Lady Chani.” 

“Ah, but that’s just a more complicated sort of mask.” She pushed the headdress back on the crown of her head and flashed Hansha a wink and a grin. 

As the Sun Folk used their zwoots to plough up the sandy earth and scattered rocks across the old needle-mound field, so the rockshapers maintained constant shifts working on the defensive walls. Already the walls encircled all the way around the Bridge of Destiny, though in many places the wall was no larger than a jackwolf’s shoulder. 

After a hard morning’s work, Ahdri collapsed on the woven mats outside the weaver’s hut. Ahnshen was kneeling as he finished the fitting on Spar’s new cotton gown. Dyed in vibrant blues and greens that recalled a rainforest bird’s plumage, it hung loosely over her body, and Spar resisted Ahnshen’s constant efforts to tighten it. 

“No, leave it baggy. My skin’s tight enough without my dress too.” 

Ahnshen scowled, his sense of aesthetics wounded. “It’s just that... it’s... rather ugly just hanging like that. Let me at least stitch a little darts under the bust–” 

“No. Let it hang. I want to be able to move in it – run in it – without worrying that I’m going to pop one of your seams.” 

Ahnshen sighed and muttered something about dressing her hair to lift the eye above the waistline. 

“Look at you,” Ahdri teased. “A grain sack stuffed to filling.” 

“Mm, another four moons, Leetah thinks.” Spar shifted on her feet, trying to keep her balance. 

“You must be eager to get him out of there and hold him for the first time.” 

“You know, I think I’ll be sad to lose this.” Spar draped a hand over her belly. “He’s all snuggled up, his head just under my heart, fast asleep – ouch! – well, I thought he was sleeping. And sending now and then... these thoughtless bursts of sheer contentment, like a cat purring away. I don’t think anything can compare to this.” 

“Enjoy it while it lasts,” Ahnshen muttered. “The minute they learn to walk, they want to go off and ride wolves.” 

Ahdri rolled over on her back, throwing an arm over her head. “Ohh, on any other day I would be sick with jealousy, but today I don’t have the strength to long for a kitling. The rock is so brittle – no matter how Ekuar and I coax it, it simply doesn’t want to stretch. Door just took over for me, and I know I should go and take a rest, but I haven’t the strength to hike up to my hut.” 

“Go downstairs,” Ahnshen offered. “Take our bed. Vurdah is off helping Behtia with the mill. We’ll tell Windkin if he comes looking for you.” 

Ahdri pulled herself up. “Thank you, Ahnshen,” she mumbled gratefully as she stumbled inside the hut. 

Spar sighed. “Wish I could help somehow. But we need an absence of plants outside the walls. Pity. You know,” she glanced over her shoulder as Ahnshen knelt at her feet to finish stitching the hem, “I can shape some very sick looking plants. All sorts of monstrous little weeds and thorns - that’s it!” she exclaimed, bouncing on the soles of her feet. 

“Hey! Careful! Do you want a ragged hem?” 

Spar laughed at the very Sun Folk-like preoccupation with smooth lines. She waited as patiently as she could until Ahnshen finished, then bolted from the mat to find Grayling. 

“Strangleweed!” she announced, breathless with excitement. 

“You think you can shape something like it?” 

“Why not? There are all sorts of ugly weeds that line in the hills. And you all know I have a talent for ruining a good plant. Give me a month or two of trials and I bet I could make something so sticky and tight that my father would swear it was real strangleweed.” 

Grayling smiled and clasped her shoulder. 

* * * 

Haken surveyed the bustling village from the Horn of the Bridge of Destiny, Flitrin quietly perched on his shoulder. Weatherbird calmly paced along the edge of the Bridge, her arms outstretched to hold her balance. 

“Should you fall, your sire would undoubtedly kill me for allowing it,” Haken quipped. “And I have no intention of leaving this world while she lives on.” 

“Then you’ll have to catch me if I fall,” she countered. Haken watched her steps carefully and noticed that for all her seeming recklessness, she never took more than three paces out onto the perilously slim rock bridge. 

“My grandfather crossed this bridge once,” she announced. 

“Before or after he learned to float?” 

“After.” 

“Mm. And unlike your namesake, you are a most earthbound creature.” 

“I could steal your floating powers, you know,” she remarked cheerfully. Haken could not tell if she was bluffing, and he had no wish to find out. 

“My words for aspiring to growth were wasted on you, I see. The powers of the Firstcomers are rekindled anew in your heart. Where even your sire had a coming of age, you were born to your gifts.” 

Weatherbird laughed lightly. “So you think I never grew? Oh, Haken, you should talk to my parents!” 

Haken smiled shrewdly. “Now, what could a child such as you need to out-grow? Hmm. The fault of arrogance?” 

“Overconfidence,” Weatherbird amended. “Trying to run before I could walk. Ended myself rump-over-head more than once.” 

“Ah. Another reason you were sent to pacify me, perhaps?” he drawled. 

“Father thought we might see eye to eye a bit better than most.” 

“Amusing choice of words.” 

Weatherbird chuckled to herself. She turned about and took a few more steps back out onto the Bridge. “You know, Haken, we don’t all think you’re evil – or ill in spirit. You see the world a little... off-balance compared to the others. I see the world a little off-balance too. To us it’s right side up. But we have to make sure we don’t bump others off their balance just so they can see things like we do.” 

“Were you not such a fascinating creature, I would take great exception to being tutored by a child.” 

Weatherbird had stopped cold in her tracks, and her arms dropped to her sides. 

“Weatherbird?” Haken called. 

“Oh no...” Weatherbird whispered. For the Bridge had fallen away from below her feet, and she saw the world as circling high in the air like a hawk. She no longer saw the comforting peaks that surrounded Sorrow’s End, but the vast desert far to the west. A great shapeless expanse of sand stood below us, and swarming upon it were hundreds of humans, travelling in one great caravan of no-humps and crude A-frames. The vision grew clearer and she could see that leading the caravan were the tallest and strongest of the males, decorated in red mud paint. And at the head of the great migration was a fat spirit-man, his face covered in a great tattooed mask. 

**Can you see it, child?** 

**I see it... oh, Timmain.** 

**I am coming back.** 

**Yes! Yes, come back at once. Oh... High Ones....** 

“Weatherbird!” Haken caught her arm and yanked her back to the safety of the Horn. “What is it?” 

“Chirp-much thing lost head,” Flitrin pronounced in judgment. 

Weatherbird shuddered, and her rich brown skin turned an ashen gray. “They’re back.” 

* * * 

Weatherbird shared Timmain’s vision with the village, and by sunset Timmain herself flew into Sorrow’s End. She dropped down from the sky and seamlessly turned from hawk to feathered elf to tall silver-haired High One. No sooner did her toes touch the ground than she wilted, and the elves had to catch her before she fell and hurt herself. Weatherbird rushed to her side bearing a flagon of water, which Timmain downed in one long draught. 

“Humans...” she gasped out. “At least two hundred. The ones the warriors frightened off have secured reinforcements. They’re marching at an even pace, but their numbers slow them down. They are mostly male warriors, with a few women in their midst to tend camp.” 

“How long?” Grayling asked. 

“Three days, perhaps. Perhaps more, if they linger. Less, if they hasten.” 

“They’ve come to challenge us,” Haken growled. 

“We’re not nearly ready for a siege,” said Grayling. 

“Perhaps that will not be necessary,” Savah offered hopefully. “We have raised our defensive walls. The hillside they almost scaled two months past has become a sheer cliff. The landscape has been altered. And the humans do not know we live in a village.” 

“We are now beyond ‘perhaps,’” Haken said. 

“Then this is the end of our days here,” Sun-Toucher sighed. 

“No!” Leetah cried. “Father! We cannot leave. We will not. Humans chased our ancestors across the Burning Waste. We will not let them chase us from our refuge.” 

Several farmers added their own impassioned pleas. Scouter and Shushen glared at Grayling accusingly. 

Weatherbird led Timmain away to rest in the wolf caves. There was no resolution in the village square, and the Sun Folk slowly drifted off to their own huts, uncertain what the next day would bring. 

Night was falling, but Grayling did not return to his hut. Instead he lingered on the rocks near the wolf caves. The contours of the village had changed much over the last few months, but the caves and the nearby hotsprings remained the same. That small piece of familiarity was priceless now. 

His jackwolf Haze came to his side and sniffed his bare legs curiously. Grayling looked up at the stars overhead and tried to remember the various starforms Skywise had named over the years. But he could find no patterns in the sky. The stars were too numerous to count and group and divide into the outlines of creatures. 

How could the Gliders have survived inside Blue Mountain, locked away from the stars? How could the trolls build their great cities underground, never seeing a full night’s sky? 

A sending broke his concentration. Alekah’s voice cried out into the night. 

**KEL! Come quickly!** 

“The cub,” Grayling gasped as he tore from his jackwolf’s side and sprinted up the rocks towards the village. He found the little path that led down the hillside and raced down into the valley, nearly stumbling and falling head over heels in the process. 

**Where are you? What happened? Is it the cub?** 

**My hut! Hurry!** 

Grayling didn’t press further, but ran for Alekah and Jari’s hut. He broke through the curtained door, breaking several strings of beads. Alekah was sitting on a mat, flanked by Hansha and Jari. Her tunic was hiked up about her breasts and her hands were clasped tight over her abdomen, just now beginning to swell as she entered her sixth month of pregnancy. 

“What is it? Alekah!” Grayling felt at her side. But while her face was screwed up into a grimace of intense concentration, Hansha and Jari was grinning. 

“Shh!” Alekah took his hand and pressed it to her stomach. **Can you feel it?** 

At first he felt nothing but the heat of her skin and the steady beat of her pulse as blood rushed to her womb and the fetus within. But then he felt something else, a sudden twitch of her muscles. 

“What was that?” 

“The baby’s moving,” Alekah grinned. “Here,” she repositioned Grayling’s hand. “Listen. Listen with your heart.” 

Grayling closed his eyes and struggled to extend his limited senses. Momentarily he cursed himself for giving up his wolf-blood. Had he the blood of Timmorn he might– 

And then he felt it, not with his ears or his hand, but with his mind. Against Alekah’s slow and steady pulsebeat came another little rhythm, many times faster. Grayling willed his spirit-self to lean in towards the fluttering heartbeat, and he was rewarded with a faint sending star, a reply that carried no thoughts, no emotion, just an outpouring of instinctive psychic energy. 

Grayling leapt back, his eyes wide. Hansha and Jari laughed. 

“I didn’t want you to miss it,” Alekah smiled. “It’s the first time he’s sent.” 

“He?” Grayling blinked. “He? I... I...” he stammered. Then he realized there were no words, and he lunged forward, enfolded Jari, Alekah and Hansha in one great hug. 

**My family...* he sent. Tears welled in his eyes and he made no attempt to restrain them. 

“We knew you’d want to be here,” Jari said, and Grayling felt a rush of gratitude for his new brother’s generosity. 

“We–” his voice broke, but he recovered himself. “We will always be a family, the five of us. Two sets of lifemates, but four elves closer than kin, and one child binding us all together.” 

“Three fathers and one very proud mama,” Alekah laughed, and she too was crying, “to have such devoted helpmates.” 

Grayling placed his hand on her stomach again, and again he felt the raw sending-shout as the developing cub tested his newly emerging telepathy. 

My cub... Grayling thought. Suddenly it seemed so very real. 

My cub can’t grow up in a world where we are hunted into burrows like ravvits. 

Grayling rose. “I... I have to go. I have something I need to do.” 

Alekah nodded. Jari clutched her shoulders tightly. Hansha began to rise, but Grayling shook his head. 

**Stay here. I’ll let you know what happens.** 

**Kel...** 

**Don’t worry. Our cub will be born into a world free of danger. I promise.** 

* * * 

Chani had already gone to sleep in Savah’s bed, but Grayling was not surprised to hear that Haken was not in the village. It did not take him long to find the High One. Half-hidden by the rocks, Haken sat on the Horn of the Bridge of Destiny, his eyes turned to the World’s Spine Mountains, and his distant Oasis. 

Haken made no acknowledgement of Grayling’s presence, but continued to gaze south. Grayling stood next to him in silence for several long minutes. 

“What do you see, when you look out there?” Grayling asked. 

“Pleasant memories of times long past.” 

Grayling nodded. 

“What do you want?” Haken asked at length. 

“Your guidance.” 

Haken turned and looked at Grayling. Sitting as he did they were nearly of a height. “And what does the wolf-bitch say to that?” 

“I don’t care what she may think. She may be my ancestor, but she is a stranger in Sorrow’s End.” 

Haken chuckled low in his throat. “And...?” 

“We will not keep this holt. No matter how we hide... no matter how we fight. Even if we kill every human in that war party, more will eventually come. And I will not have my cub born into a life of perpetual den-hides. But Sorrow’s End is all the Sun Folk have ever known. They will not abandon it until the moment the humans crest the cliffs. I need your help. I need them to understand. Sometimes... a wolf fights. Sometimes a wolf flees.” 

“And you would come to Oasis... and live under the iron fist of the Black Snake’s cruel sire?” Haken chuckled. 

“Don’t do that. We’re growing weary of it. You’ve been a fine warleader. You’ve forced, and taunted, and shamed the Sun Folk into standing up and doing something besides sitting down and hoping for the best. But now we need you to be a true Father to your tribe.” 

Haken looked at him curiously. **No, I’m not playing games with you,** Grayling sent. **There’s no trap to avoid.** 

“There’s always a trap. It’s simply a matter of looking in the right places.” 

“Will you help us?” 

Frustration tightened his voice. “I have been trying to do nothing less since I arrived here.” 

Grayling held out his hand. Haken looked at it skeptically. He reached out and clasped it for a fleeting moment. Then he got to his feet. The cloak fell off his left shoulder, and for a moment, Grayling caught a glimpse of a badly scarred stump of flesh, no longer than a elf’s hand-span. Haken quickly rearranged his cloak. 

“Let us be off,” Haken said. “We have much to do.”


	6. Sorrow's Descent

Not surprisingly, Grayling’s announcement to the Sun Folk was not well received. 

“You can’t begin to understand!” Ahnshen spat. “You’re a Wolfrider. We’re Sun Folk – we cannot leave Sorrow’s End, and certainly not for some... hole in a mountainside. Plants uprooted from their soil cannot be replanted on bare rocks!” 

“Father...” Coppersky heaved a sigh. “Will you just listen?” 

Jarrah clutched Ekuar’s arm tightly. “No... no, you can’t make us leave. Please, there must be some way–” 

“There is none,” Grayling said sternly. 

“Dung to that!” Scouter challenged hotly. “We can stand and fight!” 

“Five eights and a few elves against hundreds of humans? I think not, Scouter.” 

“We have more than mere numbers. Summon the Palace. We can channel its power and–” 

“No,” Venka said. Scouter turned on her. 

“The Palace will not come to our aid,” she said. “Not to scare the humans, not to wage war against them – not even to fly us all out of the hills. Unless it can arrive and leave long before the humans reach Sorrow’s End, or disguise itself as a hillside and lay dormant until they pass, then my brother and father will not allow its flight to Sorrow’s End. I’m sorry, Scouter, but we cannot chance the Palace being seen by humans. You know that.” 

“What can they do to us? Stone arrows and wooden clubs cannot pierce the Palace’s living armour!” 

“Would you take the chance that they might?” Venka asked. “Do not forget, the Firstcomers lost the Palace to the humans once before.” 

“The Firstcomers were paralyzed with fear. We are warriors!” 

“Speak for yourself,” Ahnshen growled. 

“We have two Firstcomers of our own,” Halek said. “Timmain, Haken, can’t you...?” 

“Murder the humans?” Haken asked. “I’d be quite happy to try. I might even be able to do so, with the support of the Jackwolf Riders. But of the two wars I have led against humans, neither was without... sacrifice.” 

“We’re not afraid to die,” Shushen pounded his chest with his fist. 

Haken sneered. “Don’t make me laugh, infant. You know even less of dying than you do of living.” 

“And I am not prepared to let even one elf sacrifice himself,” Savah said calmly from her canopied chair. “Sorrow’s End is the haven of our kind. But even it is not worth an elf’s life.” 

“Curse it, some things are worth fighting for – dying for!” Scouter snapped. 

“Yes,” Timmain agreed. “But this is not one of them.” 

“My children,” Savah said gently. “I know you all fear for the future. Sorrow’s End is all you have ever know. Even I can scarcely recall the days before. But Sorrow’s End is simply a place – a collection of things. Things can be replaced. Things are not alive. Timmain and Haken can remember the times when our ancestors sailed among the stars – and there were no shortages of world for our kind to settle. This oasis must fall and wither. All things end... each vine, each flower, at the end of its time, withers. But Sorrow’s End will live on. We will journey to a new oasis, and there make a new life for ourselves.” 

“Savah, you cannot give up,” Leetah implored. 

“This isn’t right...” Ahdri murmured. “We’ve fought so hard – overcome droughts, famines, even Smoking Mountain!” She clenched her fists tight. “I stopped a mountain to save Sorrow’s End! A mountain is greater than any horde of humans.” 

“We can channel the power of the Palace!” Scouter insisted again. “Our magic-users can strike the humans down without ever showing themselves!” 

“Hmm, strike out blindly without thought,” Timmain murmured. “Spurred on by desperate cruelty. Like humans. Like... others...” her eyes drifted to the side. 

“Oh, such pretty fangs you have,” Haken sneered. 

“The Palace is not coming,” Weatherbird said. “It’s not going to happen, Scouter. We have to plan something else.” 

“I’m not abandoning my home until the entire ruling council orders me to!” Ahnshen insisted. 

Haken rolled his eyes. “Council... more pointless chatter.” 

Slowly the eyes of the Sun Folk drifted about to land on the members of the council. Ahdri spoke first. “I cannot agree with this. Sorrow’s End... it is more than a place, Mother of Memory. At least to me. The rock underfoot is just as alive to me as any of you. It is a part of me. Losing Sorrow’s End... it would be as painful as losing...” her eyes drifted to Windkin. 

“Oh... Ahdri...” Savah touched her shoulder. “You speak as my Yurek did... so long ago. I lost him to the rock... I would not lose you too.” 

Sun-Toucher spoke next. “This land is a dear to me as a living elf. Indeed, it seems I have Recognized these rocks and winds... a slow loving Recognition built upon year after year. But I will sacrifice my love for this land, today if need be – and build a new love and a new life elsewhere.” 

Toorah took his hand. “And I will go with you, lifemate, today if need be. For this land is barren without the joys of family.” 

Leetah only shook her head. 

“You know my position,” Grayling said. “And you know Savah’s.” 

“Grayling,” Alekah implored. “Must we decide this today?” 

“We haven’t time to wait.” 

“Why not?” Leetah asked. “Why can’t we – what do you call it? – den-hide and wait to see if the humans will pass us by?” 

Haken swept his hand through the air. “We’ve been over that. At best we postpone the inevitable. The sad truth, my little desert blossom, is that you live along a very inviting migration route. More will come. And while I cannot say the prospect of hunting and killing every human who passes close by does not appeal to me, I doubt it would sit well with your delicate sensibilities.” 

Leetah got to her feet, hands on hips, and glared up at Haken with the harshest expression she could muster. “Does it make you feel taller, to scorn us as lowly insects?” 

Haken was unfazed. “It tends to.” 

Somewhere within the ranks of the Jackwolf Riders rose a muffled laugh. But Leetah maintained her composure. “That is not the way of a leader,” she bit the words out. 

Haken descended the dais, towering over the healer. “A leader is unafraid to speak the truth, no matter how unpleasant it may be to your refined palate.” 

Leetah clenched her fists tight. “A leader does not talk down to us!” she grated the words out between clenched teeth, struggling not to succumb to emotion. “Nor does a father.” 

A ghost of a smile crossed Haken’s face. “Now, I don’t think there are many who would dare speak so to a High One,” he murmured. “You have some courage in you after all, healer. Good. You’ll need it.” He spoke up louder, for all too hear. “Any fool can back himself into a corner and wait to die. It takes greater courage to rebuild after all you hold dear has been turned to ash. Believe me, it is a lesson I know well.” His gaze drifted first down to his missing arm, almost unwillingly, then to Chani and their great-grandson Door, sitting with Spar off Sun-Toucher’s left side. 

“When cornered, the wisest wolf chooses flight,” Grayling said. 

“We’re not wolves!” Jari snapped. 

“No, we are Sun Folk,” Savah said. “But the sun will still shine to the south. And once... long ago, we were Rootless Ones, who roamed the earth but did not anchor themselves in the ground. Please, my children. We could choose to stand firm, only to be blown over by the storm. We could quarrel, losing precious time. But I beg you, choose the gentler path, painful as it is to you now.” 

Savah’s gentle words drained the last resistance from the dissenters. Scouter, Leetah and the farmers fell silent, though their eyes said they were most unwilling participants. 

“Grandfather, will you tell us your plan?” Savah bade. 

Haken paced in front of the dais. “Three days is all we have, as near as... our scout can guess.” He refused to look at Timmain. “Three days for you to gather all your supplies, all your possessions. Your huts and your fields will have to stay behind. So will your zwoots. We will linger as long as we can – this will be no pathetic flight. But in three days the humans will be here. In the three days you have to prepare, I and the other rockshapers will build our escape: a tunnel through the rock, leading down into the bones of this land. Out of sight and out of mind, we will seal up the entrance and let the humans pass right by. They’ll have the hills and the well – they’ll have no need to journey south into the gravel pans and canyons. And it’s in the canyon bed that the Palace will come for us, and take us to Oasis – and please let’s not spoil this charming moment by tossing about the old accusations,” he whirled on Venka’s family, and behind them, Timmain. “Though it may wound your precious pride, I’ll say once more that I have no interest in your relic.” 

“We believe you, Haken,” Weatherbird said. 

**I don’t–** “Ow!” Tass squeaked as Weatherbird reached around Venka and yanked a single long hair from her head. 

Haken held Timmain in his scornful gaze. At length Timmain looked away in a symbolic submission. Haken spun back on the Sun Folk. “We have three days to prepare, and three days to continue this petty bickering. After that, we leave.” 

The Sun Folk stirred uneasily. Ahdri swallowed the lump in her throat and stepped forward. “My heart is not in this. But it’s my hands that are needed. If it is Savah’s will, we’ll begin work on the tunnel now.” 

Savah smiled sadly. “Dear child, though it pains me more than you can know, it is.” 

Ahdri nodded matter-of-factly. “We should rotate our duties as we have in the past. Haken, will you join me, and Door and Ekuar shall take our places come sundown?” 

Haken gave her a respectful nod. They moved away from the square, while the other villagers slowly got to their feet and looked about in confusion. 

Chani rose from her seat and stepped out from under the canopy awning. “It’s probably best to take this one day at a time. You should pack your most important possessions first, your keepsakes and tools. Farmers, take all your best seeds. Weavers, dismantle and wrap up your looms. Remember, you are not losing your home, only picking it up and taking it with you. But pack nothing you can live without. Tomorrow we will see what we have, and how much more we can afford to take.” She smiled sadly. “And remember we are all equally miserable at this turn of events. My lord and I would never have asked you to abandon your Sorrow’s End if it was not necessary.” 

Her kind words soothed some tempers, but it was clear others were not convinced. As the meeting dispersed, Grayling hiked over to join Hansha, Jari and Alekah, anticipating the anger his new family would release on him. Hansha reached out and took his hand in silent support. 

“I’m sorry,” he said simply. 

To his surprise, Alekah touched his shoulder. “There’s no choice. Part of me knows that. Someone had to admit what we’re all fearing.” 

Jari scowled. “None of this is right.” 

“No,” Hansha agreed. “But we can’t really do anything about that, can we? I don’t think the land and the wind and the season really think of right or wrong.” He mustered a feeble smile. “I’m sure the humans, if they could hear us and understand us, would think it was perfectly right.” 

“The humans–” Jari began angrily. But he saw the sadness in Hansha’s green eyes and his anger melted. “Aye. They would, wouldn’t they? And the soil wouldn’t take sides either way.” 

“You’re starting to think like a Wolfrider,” Grayling said. 

Jari did not seem cheered by the compliment. Alekah hugged him fiercely. “We’ll be settled again by the time our kitling is born. He’ll know nothing of our pain, only the joy in building a new world.” 

“Until something else destroys our new world.” 

“Mountains rose and fell in the time it took for the humans to come to Sorrow’s End,” Grayling said. “And I’ve been to Oasis – from a distance it’s not nearly as inviting as these hills were to me when I crossed the Burning Waste with my birth-tribe.” 

“So we hope.” 

“No one can guess the future, Jari. Not even little Weatherbird who can read the Scroll of Colors as easily as you and I read the daylight by the sun’s arc. We can only deal with what’s right in front of us.” 

Jari shook his head sadly. “You Wolfrider have words for every moment. So do Savah and Haken. But there are no words for this... pain.” 

Alekah could only cling to her lifemate tightly. “I know, Jari. We all know.” 

* * * 

Timmain misjudged the speed of the human migration. By the end of the day they had camped less than half a day’s ride from Sorrow’s End. Grayling, Wing, Venka and Zhantee rode out to see the camp being erected. The beasts of burden were exhausted, and several of the men looked ready to expire from heat stroke. Yet the stronger warriors were already erecting sacred totems out of rocks, and painting each other with paint. Three fat man stood at the outskirts of camp, facing the east and chanting loudly. 

“What are they saying?” Grayling asked. 

“War,” Wing translated. “Ma-nak wills... war... death to... dark creatures... spirits? No, not spirits, something else.” 

“Demons, then,” Grayling growled. “I suppose they’ve decided we do not speak for their god after all.” 

“Ma-nak wants the humans to take the hills... all of the hills,” Wing deciphered. “They will take the mountains peak by peak... and Ma-nak will... give them victory. Anyone who doesn’t – favour? – the humans is an evil spirit.” 

Venka sighed. “There it is, then. There can be no peace.” 

“They are all near collapse,” Wing said. “They’ll have to rest before they charge.” 

“They don’t intend to rest,” Grayling said. He narrowed his eyes. “They’ll move again by morning. No... they aren’t going to charge. They’re just going to move... to advance like a wave of little stinging fire-ants. And we have to get out of their way before they reach Sorrow’s End.” 

* * * 

The packing continued steadily as the rockshapers slowly burrowed their way into the sandstone. What began as the deepest of the wolf caves was gradually expanding into a long tunnel shaft, gently sloping down below the surface of the desert. The tunnel was too narrow for zwoots – they would have to be left to fend for themselves in the hills – but large enough to accomodate the Sun Folk and the jackwolves and tuftcats. By the morning of the second day, Ahdri descended deep into the tunnel to begin her second shift of rockshaping. The air that was already hot and dry at the entrance of the tunnel was cool and surprisingly moist. Tiny little glowing pebbles were strewn along the sides of the tunnel to light her way. Though she could only guess until she touched the rock and merged with it, Ahdri guessed the tunnel already extended well beyond the Bridge of Destiny. 

Door had already retired, but Ekuar was still at work, humming as he coaxed the rock to peel away from the air. Heavy beads of sweat stood out against his skin. He paused to wipe his bald head. “Ohhh... hello, dear one.” 

“You look exhausted,” Ahdri said. “Have you been working all night?” 

“Ahh... I’m not used to it. Been so long since I’ve moved this much rock... ah... once, long ago I used I do this every waking moment.... Oh... but don’t worry... I’ll get this up... I’ll...” his eyes lidded over and he sagged. “Ohhh....” 

“Ekuar!” Ahdri exclaimed as she caught him. She rolled him over on his back and sent to him. **Ekuar... Ekuar, can you hear me?** 

The only reply was garbled nonsense, a buzzing static between her ears. 

**Leetah! Venka! Jarrah! Someone! Ekuar’s collapsed!** She groped her hand across Ekuar’s chest, trying to find his heartbeat. **By Yurek, he’s hardly breathing.** 

The moments passed slowly, agonisingly so. At length Jarrah came running down the darkened tunnel, followed closely by her granddaughter. “Oh, no no no no no,” Jarrah cried out as she fell to her lifemate’s side. “Ekuar! Ekuar!” 

Leetah raced down the tunnel, clad in her long moth-fabric nightgown. She dropped down next to Ahdri and placed her hands on Ekuar’s chest. “His heart is tired. He’s pushed himself too far... for too many days...” 

“We should have realized,” Venka fretted. “His body is so frail...” 

Leetah went to work, her healing glow surrounding the ancient elf’s body. “Ohh... his heart is fighting me...” she grimaced. “He’s so tired... so tired...” 

“You must save him!” Jarrah wept. “Please, healer! I cannot lose him!” 

“Quiet!” Leetah snapped. 

Now Savah and Haken were nearing. “Curse it!” Haken swore. He crouched down next to Ekuar. A second aura of magic enfolded the old rockshaper, one of levitation. **Yes! Good! Good – you’ve released him from the pull of the world! His body no longer fights me.** 

“Dear Ekuar...” Savah breathed, tears welling in her eyes. 

At length Leetah sat back. Ekuar gently floated down into Ahdri’s arms. 

“He must sleep,” Leetah said. 

Flitrin hovered about Haken’s head. “Sleep? Flitrin do, Lord Highthing?” 

Haken nodded. 

“Ekuar–” Jarrah reached for him, but Venka gently held her back. 

“There is no more profound rest, Grandmother.” 

Flitrin quickly buzzed about Ekuar, spitting wrapstuff. Within moments Ekuar was safely cocooned. Jarrah gathered the cocoon in her arms, and her tears fell on the glimmering threads. “Sleep now, dear lifemate. Venka and I will watch over you.” 

Venka and Jarrah lifted the cocoon together and bore him up the tunnel, back towards the village. Leetah got to her feet and staggered away, spent from her effort. 

“You have a formidable power, healer,” Haken called to her back. 

Leetah cast him a wan smile and nodded slightly in acknowledgement of the compliment. “I could not have healed him without your help.” 

Haken gave a brusque nod and moved to join Ahdri at the tunnel’s terminus. “We haven’t time to linger, have we? Let’s get back to work.” 

Ahdri hesitated. “Poor Ekuar. Why didn’t we sense it?” 

Haken put his hand to the rock and it peeled back away under his touch. “Ekuar is safe. And we have work to do.” 

Ahdri sighed. She raised her hand to the rock and rejoined the effort. “How can you... put it away so swiftly?” 

A pause. “It is not easy.” 

They worked together in silence for a while, and the only sound was their breathing, and the soft hum of rock being shaped away. 

She heard Haken muttering something. 

“What?” 

“Should have known better...” concern and self-blame crept into his voice. “I keep forgetting how long he’s been in that skin. Too long in one body... it does not take much to leave it.” 

* * * 

The warriors danced in a ritual dance of combat, while Aballan and his fellow shamans threw sacred herbs on the fires the women stoked at the edge of camp. Though the heat of the afternoon was unbearable, they built the sacred pyres higher. 

Tagon strutted in his glory at the edge of camp, his spear raised high. Aballan watched the chief hunter carefully. 

“Tomorrow we march!” Tagon declared. “Summon the glory of Manach, my brothers! Tomorrow we take the rocks from the shadow-demons!” 

“Why wait for tomorrow?” Aballan asked as Tagon walked over to the fire to breathe in the fragant smoke. 

“What’s that, old man?” 

Aballan smiled. “You plan to march with the sunrise. But it’s a good half-day’s march to the rocks where you last saw the demons... if you remember the contours of the land.” 

“I remember them well, old man!” 

“The rocks have changed. You were right, Tarach, they must be the work of Gotara’s shadow-demons, for Manach would not seek to deceive us so.” 

Tagon smiled proudly. Aballan had to bite back a laugh at how easily the great bear was manipulated. “But if you leave at sun-up it will be the middle of the day before you find the demons’ nest... assuming they haven’t fled in terror. And if they mean to fight... well, you’ll be exhausted by the march, won’t you?” 

Tagon narrowed his eyes. “What do you suggest?” 

Aballan shrugged. “Leave tonight. Travel through the safety of the cool night.” 

Tagon scoffed. “At night – where the shadow-demons are out in full force? Have a death wish, shaman?” 

“Manach’s Left Eye will be full overhead tonight. And his Right Eye will rise by midnight. The auguries are favourable. And the creatures that live in the rocks will not expect an attack by moonlight.” He smiled. “A bold gamble, Tagon. One that could benefit us both.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Think of it. You with the scalp of a blaspheming demon on your belt. I with the honour of being the shaman to predict your victory. Listen carefully, Tagon.” He gestured for Tagon to follow him. “You pride yourself on your tracking abilities, but the very landscape has been altered by these... creatures of witchcraft. Suppose you leave by sunrise tomorrow. It will be at least afternoon before you reach the demons’ hills – later if you are mislead by the clues in the rocks. Perhaps it will evening. You and your warriors will be exhausted, in so fit shape to fight. And the demons will fight. Blasphemers always fight to the death. Now, consider... leave tonight at sundown. Hike throughout the night. Take the time to find the demons’ camp. Take time to gather your strength. Attack at dawn, as Manach’s Left Eye sets... as the sun rises and blinds the demons. Attack with your full force. You will have your victory. And so will I. But if you set out tomorrow morning, as planned, and the battle goes poorly, then I will cry out against you as a false prophet. And the people will listen. You will be shamed in front of everyone!” 

Tagon listened carefully. “You make a good point. But my warriors are tired. They need a full night’s rest. Perhaps... we should delay another day to gather our strength.” 

“After you promised them all that you have? Come now, Tagon. You know better.” 

“And how do I know you don’t intend us to fail, by sending us out into the darkness?” Tagon narrowed his eyes. “How do I know you don’t intend to have an accident befall me in the night?” 

“I am sending my chosen successor as your rear guard, Tagon.” 

“Mm, and I wouldn’t be surprised if you gave him a dagger to sheathe in my back.” 

“You reveal the darkness of your own soul to accuse me of such things!” 

Tagon smiled. “And if you are so certain this night-time raid will work, then come with us.” 

Aballan blinked. “I am an old man, Tagon, and your war’s marching pace has wearied me.” 

“Come now, shaman. Do you not trust your own auguries?” 

Aballan patted his fat gut. He had sweated off several pounds of water weight, and his skin was wrinkled in loose folds about his abdomen. “I am no warrior.” 

“Ah, but the glory you’ll win at our side, warleader-shaman!” Tagon purred. 

“And how do I know you will not stick a knife in my back?” 

“In front of the war party of all the clans? Don’t be foolish, old man.” 

Aballan hesitated. “Why do you ask this of an old man?” 

“Because you’ll not convince me of this plan if you stand by the sidelines so cheerfully, ready to speak against me the moment I leave camp. No, Aballan. You’re march at my side, or I’ll wage my own war without you.” 

Aballan smiled tightly. “You’ll not take my mask of leadership.” 

“To war, then?” 

“To war, tonight! But Tarach stays behind. If you slay me, then he will take my mask.” 

“Let him stay. I have no use for him in battle.” 

“Done.” 

“Done!” Tagon clapped hands with Aballan triumphantly. 

Aballan waited until Tagon was out of sight before he allowed himself the uxury of a smirk. Ah, hunters were all alike, loud and blustery and without any cunning beyond what it took to kill a striped pig. 

He turned and walked towards his tipi. He would need to rest before the night’s march. His knees ached, and he sweated profusely even in the shade of his tent. This two-month march had torn something in his lungs, and he constantly struggled for breath. No, he woud not survive the coming winter. Perhaps he would not survive this raid. But he would not leave before Tagon. No, it was not Tarach he had planned to have slay Tagon. Tarach had not the stomach for such deeds. 

But he did. He would hunt down Blasphemers wherever they hid. 

The raid would fail or succeed as Manach willed. That part did not matter. 

But the shaman’s line would go on. 

Tagon seized his spear and began a new rousing speech. Aballan sighed as he crawled inside the comforting shade of his tipi and lay down to sleep. 

Perhaps he would die a shadow-demon come the morning. He had never taken a demon’s life before. Momentarily his fear returned. What if Tagon was wrong? What if the creatures who lived in the rocks were indeed the blessed spirits of Manach? 

He reassured himself. Manach’s spirits did not die, but lived forever in his grace. Demons were unholy spawns of false gods. If Tagon struck at an immortal spirit, he would do no harm, and Aballan would strike him down for his blasphemy. 

But if the creatures bled... then they were fell beasts... and then they would be killed. 

* * * 

Hansha looked over the small pile of supplies he and Grayling had assembled. Hansha’s blacksmithing tools, Grayling’s weapons, a collection of keepsakes, all were bundled up inside three woven blankets. 

“It’s... sad.” Hansha said. “To see your life reduced to three little bags.” 

“They’re our possessions, not our life, Hansha.” Grayling kissed his forehead. “By the time the cub is born we’ll be settled in a new home.” 

“It will never be Sorrow’s End.” 

“No. Just as Sorrow’s End will never be Father Tree. But it will be home in a whole new way.” 

Hansha sighed. “Chani says there are many precious metals in the rocks at Oasis – gold, and silver and copper.” 

“You’ll have your forge burning again in no time.” 

“I know... but...” 

They heard a commotion in the distance, and they abandoned the pile of supplies to investigate. In the village square, where once the dancing mats were laid out and the villagers feasted, was now the site of a bonfire. Piled in the flames were elegant woven baskets, tapestries, carved wooden chairs. Alekah, Vurdah, Behtia and Maleen were overseeing the blaze. Wing stood by uncertainly, unwilling to interfere. 

“What are you doing?” Grayling demanded. He looked up at the heavy column of smoke. “Why not just stand on the rocks and scream ‘Come and get us, humans!’?” 

Alekah was not moved. “We can’t carry everything with us. And we’re not going to let the humans come in and help themselves to our possessions! I won’t have my tapestries become...” she sneered, “trophies to the round-ears!” 

Behtia tossed another set of baskets on the fire. “She’s right, Grayling.” 

“The smoke is a beacon. It’ll attract every round-ears in the area.” 

“They’re coming one way or the other,” Behtia said. “And we won’t be leaving them any gifts.” 

**Wing?** Grayling looked over at him. 

**I couldn’t really... find a good argument to dissuade them,** Wing sent. 

Grayling sighed. “Stoke your fires,” he said at length. “But only if you’re already packed and ready to leave. We go into the tunnel tomorrow.” 

* * * 

Chani helped Savah take down the elaborate tapestries that adorned the walls of her sleeping chamber. “This one is lovely.” Chani stroked the slightly-frayed fibers of a geometric pattern, woven in rick greens and blues. 

“Yes, you can take that one,” Savah said. “It... it’s based on a much older one... one that rotted away many years ago. A design to help remind us of the trees and rivers of our ancient home.” 

“And this one?” Chani indicated a gold-and-ochre tapestry. 

“Leave it,” Savah dismissed with a wave of the hand. 

Chani folded the blue and green tapestry and set it on the bed. She unfolded a length of cloth and carefully wrapped up the comb and jars that sat on her dressing table. 

“You needn’t bother with such things,” Savah sighed. “They can be replaced.” She owered herself in the chair. “Ohh... it is harder than I thought, to watch a way of life slowly being dismantled.” 

“Savah?” Chani walked to her side. “You’re exhausted. Lie down. Rest. Don’t tell me you don’t sleep. Every living thing needs to rest.” 

Savah looked at Chani’s hand on her shoulder. She took it in hers, comparing them. Chani’s pale skin was soft, supple against her elegant fingers. By contrast, Savah’s hand looked frail and bony, her skin aged by countless years of heat and toil. 

“I’m so weary,” she whispered. “Like Ekuar... I feel my heart slowing with age.” 

Chani stroked her unbound hair. “You need a long rest. We’ll coddle you at Oasis. No more being Mother of Memory. No more meditation. Just rest. Take care of yourself first. If you like, I can have Flitrin wrap you up – nothing reinvigorates like some time in wrapstuff. You’ll wake up full of life again, and ready to face a new world.” 

“How I secretly hoped against hope... that my Rootless Ones and I had made a home for always. Could I choose... I would choose for it all to end here... in this place of joy, in my sorrow’s end.” 

“Savah...” Chani walked around him. “What are you saying? Look at me.” 

Savah looked up at her. 

“Your children need you.” 

“Their father has returned to them.” 

Chani stepped back. “Is this what you’ve hoped all along? Was this your plan from the beginning?” 

Savah looked away sadly. Her gaze fell on a little statuette sitting on the dressing table. It was a sculpture of her, as she had appeared as a young maiden. 

“Yurek made that for you,” Chani said. It was not a question. 

Savah smiled, even as tears welled in her eyes. 

“I didn’t think you had the power... to so carefully hide the truth in your sendings.” 

“Chani...” 

Chani turned away abruptly. 

“You are still so young,” Savah said. “Your body does not cry out with weariness.” 

“You think it was easy for me to take on a body again after so long spent free as air?” 

“I think you had a powerful incentive.” 

“Savah – you have spoken of new life and new hope. You have convinced your children to abandon this place and risk a journey to a new oasis. Yet all this time you’ve deceived them! You’ve given up hope yourself!” 

“The water in my cup is drying up, Chani.” 

“No, Savah!” Chani spun back around and took Savah’s hands in hers. “No, I won’t let you die before you die. You’re tired and worn. But you cannot simply... lie down and give up!” 

Savah smiled sadly. “We ageless ones think ourselves beyond the cycle of death and rebirth. But I think we have been but deluding ourselves. All things... all creature – even elves... have their appointed times.” 

Anger crept into Chani’s features. “I died once, and I knew it was not my appointed time!” 

“Yet if your lord died, you would follow without question, rather than be parted, isn’t that true?” 

Chani flinched. “We do not speak of death. We are the immortal!” 

“You have a child’s conviction.” 

“Which I would not trade for all the wisdom of the ages, if wisdom cries out ‘And the wolf lies down!’” Chani turned and bolted from the sleeping chamber, ignoring Savah’s gentle pleas to remain. She ran down the path to the tunnel entrance and brushed past the anxious Sun Folk who peered down into the black hole. 

“Haken!” 

Haken and Ahdri were at the terminus, Ahdri resting and Haken continuing to shape the rock out of the way. Haken looked over his shoulder and his stern face lit up at the sight of his lifemate. 

“Chani. What brings my lady to light up my day–” 

“Did you know?” Chani accused. “About Savah?” 

Haken’s expression darkened. “I had hoped her mood might lift.” 

Ahdri sat at attention. “What? What about Savah?” When Chani would not answer, Ahdri turned on Haken. “What? Tell me!” 

“She longs... for rest,” Haken murmured. 

“She longs for death!” Chani corrected. 

Ahdri’s jaw dropped in horror. She turned on Haken with an accusing glare. 

“Why do you think she invited me here?” Haken asked softly. 

Chani gasped. Ahdri’s hand rose to her mouth involuntarily. 

“By Yurek. Not to guide her... but to take her place.” 

“Ahdri–” Haken began, but she had already turned on her heel and was now running back the way Chani had come. 

Ahdri found Savah alone in the darkened sleeping chamber. She ran up to the Mother of Memory and wrapped her arms about her shoulders tightly. “You cannot leave us, Mother!” she begged. “You cannot ask us to go without you to lead us.” 

Tears streaked Savah’s cheeks, but she maintained her composure. “Oh, my dear Ahdri...” 

“We need you. We cannot live on without you.” 

“You have all grown too dependent on me, I fear. But every child must leave the nest in time. You must all learn to grow.” 

Ahdri was weeping now. “Savah....” 

“Hush, sweet one. The pull of the world has wearied me... worn away my strength. I feel myself... fading away. But do not fear. For even if we are parted... I will always be here... with Yurek.” 

“No!” Ahdri pulled away. “No, Savah. You cannot.” She fell to her knees at the base of Savah’s chair. “We are selfish children to ask this. But we cannot lose our Mother of Memory. We cannot build anew if we have lost our roots. Yes, roots, for we’ve grown them all the same. Savah, I beg you, if you cannot live for yourself, then live for us. All things must pass in their own times – I know that, I know that!” she beat her forehead against Savah’s knees as if in penance. “But stay with us, a little longer. Help us make this transition. Please, Mother. Don’t leave us now.” 

Savah stroked her close-cropped hair. “Oh, Ahdri... how I long to be strong... for you all. But I feel... so faint. Like a dying ember.” 

“Let us help you. Let me help you. You’ve borne the burden alone for too long.” 

“Daughter of Memory...” Savah smiled fondly. “Tomorrow will be our last day. Tomorrow will come Sorrow’s Fall.” 

“You must come with us. Or else the sorrow will never end!” 

Savah closed her eyes tight. “The way of mothers... to bear the heaviest burdens without complaint...” 

“You must come with us to Oasis,” Ahdri repeated, her face buried in the lap of Savah’s gown. “Please, Savah. See us through this storm.” 

At length a long sigh escaped the Mother of Memory. “What mother can deny her children? I will live, Ahdri. I will follow Haken and lead you to Oasis. And then... safe in the knowledge that you have begun to rebuild... then I will rest. And I will see Yurek once more.” 

Ahdri sat back on her heels, her eyes red with tears. Gracefully, Savah rose from her chair and strode over to the rock wall. She put her hand to the rock and smiled at the warmth she felt underneath. “Soon... lifemate.” She touched her forehead to the sandstone. “Soon we will be together. But I have one more task to attend to first.” 

* * * 

The tunnel now extended nearly four times the walk from the village square to the Bridge of Destiny. As the sun began to set, Haken and Door began a last desperate push against the ancient rock. 

“The sooner we are far from here the better,” Door growled under his breath. “I don’t trust this healer when she says Spar has four moons to go. She needs to rest, away from all this whirl of activity.” 

Haken smiled in the darkness. “You’ve fathered the first in a new race of Gliders, Fenn. No small honour.” 

The rock under Haken’s hand peeled away abruptly, folding out and away at a frantic rate. Fresh air rushed in, and the sudden pressure change knocked both Gliders over. The rock wall in front of them was gone, replaced by a wide opening that let in the light of the waning Daystar. They had broken through to the shallow gravel plain far beyond the Bridge of Destiny. 

“Fine work, Grandfather,” Door stammered. 

“It was not my doing.” Haken touched the smooth rock at the edge of the tunnel. A lingering warmth remained, and Haken smiled softly. 

“Savah’s lifemate.... Of course, one final gift.” Haken stepped out into the late afternoon air. Smoking Mountain stood on the horizon, a steep pyramid of rock. 

“One last night here, Fenn,” he murmured. “Then we go home.” 

* * * 

Grayling and the Jackwolf Riders took up their final night’s patrol around the protective rocks. “One more night,” Grayling whispered to Hansha as he left his lifemate’s side to join the Riders. “Tomorrow evening, we leave for our new home.” 

“I can’t believe the kitling will never see this place.” 

“We’ll come back and show it to him one day,” Grayling insisted, summoning a brave smile. “The Bridge of Destiny will always be here, no matter how many humans pass this way.” 

* * * 

Aballan chewed on the medicinal leaves, hoping to coax a little strength into his aching limbs. As the sun began to dip behind the mountains, Tagon marshalled his full force of a hundred and fifty warriors. “We march!” he shouted. “We march for glory. We march for Manach’s grace! Free your souls now, warriors, for we march under the cloak of silence!” 

The warriors cheered and whooped, raising their spears high overhead. 

“One more march,” Aballan sighed to himself. “One more task...” 

“Tomorrow the demons will burn!” Tagon shouted. 

Tomorrow I face my god, Aballan thought.


	7. A Red Dawn

Sorrow’s End fell under a strange spell as the sun set. As his Riders made another circle around the rocks, Grayling descended to check on each hut in turn, making sure all was packed and ready to go. The heaviest items they had to carry were the looms and Behtia’s disassembled mill, and those were carefully arranged, lashed together and readied to be tied to the back of Spar’s crescent-horn. A travois to be pulled by two of the jackwolves held precious sacks of grain. Everything else was light enough to be carried on wolfback or by the elves themselves. 

“We’re ready. Early.” His voice was full of surprise. “I didn’t imagine we could be prepared to abandon our homes so quickly.” 

Door sniffed. “Then let’s be off. The sooner the better.” 

“Yes,” Haken said. “Yurek’s spirit gave us the gift of time. Let us put it to good use.” 

“No. We promised the Sun Folk until tomorrow, and we will give them that extra time.” 

“That’s easy for you to say,” Door growled. “You don’t have a lifemate heavy with child.” 

“My Recognized may not be heavy yet, but I value my unborn child just as highly as you do yours, Door. But Timmain is keeping an eyes-high, as are the Jackwolf Riders. As long as the humans are not in sight, we have time to spare. Give them the gift of time.” He jerked his head towards the huts. “Let them say goodbye in peace – as you were never able to say goodbye to Blue Mountain.” 

Haken weighed it carefully, but Door was unmoved. “My lifemate and I are leaving now. We’ll meet you on the other side of tunnel tomorrow evening.” 

Door could not be persuaded otherwise. As the full Mother Moon rose over the desert, he and Spar prepared to leave. “We’ll take Ekuar with us,” Spar offered, and Jarrah smiled gratefully. 

“You should stay close by,” Windkin said. “If your pains are coming more frequently you shouldn’t be far from a healer.” 

“I’ll be fine,” Spar smiled. “This cub isn’t coming for a while. We just... we’ll feel better if we get to a safer spot.” 

Venka and Jarrah lifted Ekuar’s little cocoon and set it against Door’s back. Flitrin flew about, spitting wrapstuff, until the cocoon was securely fastened by an over-the-shoulder silk strap. 

Door held out his hand for Spar, and she took it. 

“Flitrin,” Haken commanded. “Go with Fenn and Spar.” 

Flitrin balked. “No! Stay with Lord Highthing.” 

“Flitrin. Do.” 

“Lord Highthing....” 

“Now!” 

Flitrin heaved a sighed. “Flitrin go with small-high thing and...” its lip curled back, “fat-red thing.” 

“I won’t always be fat, Flitrin.” 

“Always be red,” it sulked. 

Door and Spar disappeared down the tunnel, their unwilling Preserver guardian in tow. A few Sun Folk lingered at the tunnel’s entrance, watching their silhouettes slowly blend into the darkness. Then they too returned to their huts to spend one last night in the village. 

* * * 

Savah took off her headdress and set it down on her empty throne. “Let the humans find this and call it a trophy,” she pronounced. 

“It tears at my heart to think what they will do in our home,” Ahdri said. 

Savah walked over to the Little Palace and smiled at the play of light across its crystal surface. “This is all we need of home,” she whispered. “This and the memories within us. Let the humans take rock and gold and cloth.” 

“Do you want to rest, Savah?” 

“No... I don’t think so.” Savah moved to the doorway of her hut and stepped out into the gathering darkness. A fresh breeze drifted down from the east – cool with the promise of a faraway sea. 

“Strange... how awake I feel. How... alive.” 

* * * 

“We should go to bed,” Scouter said. But Leetah and Shushen remained sitting outside their hut, looking up at the light clouds drifting across the stars. 

“No...” Leetah shook her head. “No... I’d rather stay up. This is the last time we’ll see the stars like this.” 

Weatherbird descended from the rocks above the hot springs. Venka, Zhantee and Tass were submerged up their necks in the steaming water. Tass ducked her head under the water, then paddled lazily to the edge of the spring, misery written on her face. 

“I think I’ll miss these the most,” Tass sighed. 

“The water in the Great Holt isn’t warm enough for you, cousin?” Weatherbird teased. 

Tass breathed in the smell of sulphur. “Mm, always reminds me of when I was cub, and we’d come here every summer to visit Father’s parents. I don’t think I’ll like visiting them at Oasis as much.” 

Venka hauled herself out of the water and wrapped a long cotton sheet about her limbs. “I remember when I was a cub, Tass, back when the Wolfriders’ only world was Sorrow’s End, when this was the only water to bathe in. Sunstream and I would come here almost every day... with our parents... or sometimes by ourselves. We got into trouble a few times, for sneaking out without a minder to keep us out of the deep water.” 

Weatherbird winced, and her hand strayed to her right side. 

“What is it?” Venka asked. 

“Suddenly... I don’t know.” She frowned. “Something... touched me.” She rubbed her side, her eyes distant. “Timmain? Something... something’s not right.” 

“Try sending to her,” Tass offered. 

Weatherbird closed her eyes and sent. But she shook her head. “No answer. She’s cut off her mind to me. I only see... a wolf looking back at me. She’s sunk deep in the wolf-thought. I can’t reach her.” 

Tass shrugged. “Well, she’d let you in if it was important.” 

Weatherbird continued to fret. “I don’t know.” Again a twinging pain in her side made her pause. 

* * * 

The jackwolf hauled herself into the shadows, whining softly. The humans tramped through the rocks all around her, shouting loudly. Timmain wedged herself deeper into the fault between two boulders, licking up the blood that welled about the arrow stuck in her ribs. 

Petalwing buzzed about her, and Timmain whimpered, willing the creature to be silent. Petalwing understood, and perched on Timmain’s back, waiting. 

“The beast went in here...” 

“Leave it, Tagon. It’s not jackals we’re hunting...” 

“Might be a demon...” 

“It was a clean shot. The beast will die soon enough. Let’s go before the moons set...” 

In the back of her mind, Timmain knew she had to flee, had to resume her elf form and send to Sorrow’s End. But the jackwolf she had become wanted only to rest, to nurse the bloodied wound. And as the pain throbbed with her pulsebeat, the elf’s voice slowly grew softer. 

The humans moved on. At length she was left alone. 

“Oooh, poor mother-grower highthing,” Petawing fretted. “Petalwing help. Petalwing do.” It seized the arrow-shaft in its claws and yanked hard. Timmain cried out. Ignoring her yowl, Petalwing yanked on the wooden shaft again. The crude arrowhead, unbarbed, slid out of the wound, releasing a fresh gout of blood. Petalwing spat wrapstuff over the wound, sealing it from the sand and grit. 

“Mother-growler need be mother-mother again,” Petalwing insisted. But it was all gibberish to the jackwolf. 

She had to get back to the pack, she knew. She had to warn them. 

She crawled out of the hole. Her legs were weak. She felt a pain deep in her side, and she knew, somehow, that she was bleeding inside. Petalwing’s wrapstuff could only do so much. 

She tried to summon the strength to shapeshift. But pain kept her in the wolf-thought, and she could not tap the elf magic within her. 

“We go sunnywarm homeplace,” Petalwing urged. 

Timmain took a few limping steps. Once again she tried to fleshshape, not to become an elf, but to control the internal bleeding. She wobbled on her skinny legs, and she moaned softly. 

Had to get back to the pack... 

Had to warn... humans... 

She started out at a run, bearing south-east to avoid the humans. Her ribs ached with each step, but forced herself to ignore the pain. Petalwing flew alongside her, its nagging hum urging her on. 

She paced in a wide arc around the humans. She outpaced them soon enough. But her strength was failing her. A grating pain tore against her muscles. She coughed, and she tasted blood against her tongue. 

Had to warn the pack... had to send... 

Preservers had never mastered sending, for all the time they spent among elves. But Petalwing was better trained than the others, and Timmain’s feeble wolf-sending penetrated its hard-shelled head. 

“Petalwing... go on first to sunnywarm homeplace?” 

Timmain buffed her approval. 

Petalwing hesitated. Timmain snapped at it, lightly, and it understood. Turning, Petalwing flew off into the night. Timmain summoned her last reserves of strength and loped after it as fast as she could manage. 

She coughed again, and blood dribbled from her chin. She tried to send to Weatherbird, but she was too weak, and too far away. 

She staggered on, ever aware of the hushed sounds of humans stalking the rocks, not far behind her. 

* * * 

All elves could go without sleep if properly trained, but as dawn neared Sorrow’s End, most of the Sun Folk had given up their final vigil and fallen asleep. Even the Jackwolf Riders meant to stay eyes high were dozing, safe in the knowledge that Timmain was guarding the outer defense perimeter. 

Coppersky heard a Preserver buzzing overhead, and he rolled over against his tuftcat, moaning softly. Petalwing tugged at Coppersky’s braid, and the elf rewarded it with a sharp swat of the hand. Sust slept on against Stubtail, oblivious. 

Petalwing grumbled and flew on. It flew into Savah’s hut, and found the Mother of Memory sitting on the edge of the throne’s dais, quietly contemplating the folds of her gown. Ahdri was asleep on the floor at her side. 

“Sunnymother highthing!” Petalwing shrieked. Ahdri awoke with the start. 

“Danger! Danger! Bad, bad bigthings!” It wailed. “Mother-growler highthing stuck by pointywing! Bigthings coming! Coming now!” 

“Oh, High Ones!” Savah exclaimed. **My children!** her open sending rang out. **Everyone – arise! We have run out of time!** 

She was already on her feet, racing down the steps with a speed that amazed Ahdri. In the darkened chamber below, Haken and Chani were waking up, Chani already scrambling for her clothes, Haken holding up the sheet clumsily to cover his mangled left arm. 

“What’s happened?” Chani demanded, hastily pulling up her dress. 

“The humans are on their way. And your mother has been wounded.” 

Chani let out a snort of disgust. She slipped on her sandals and bolted for the stairs. 

“Where are you going?” Haken demanded. 

“To the walls!” Chani shouted over her shoulder. 

“Chani, be careful!” his voice chased her up the stairs. 

* * * 

“Scat, scat, scat!” Coppersky growled as he sprang astride Stealth and gave the cat a hard kick in the ribs. The tuftcat took off down the rocks, followed closely by Sust on Stubtail. Down below in the village, Weatherbird and Venka dashed out of their hut, their clothes rumpled and hastily laced up. “Ayooah, Softpaws!” Venka called the wolf to her side, and she and Weatherbird climbed on. 

“Let one of us come too!” Zhantee called as he and Tass lingered in the doorway. “You’ll need a shield–” 

“We’ll need stealth and speed more dearly,” Venka called back. “Stay here, both of you. Protect the Sun Folk.” 

Softpaws took off in a run, and the two elves held on tightly as the wolf bounded up over the cliffs and down into the desert, close behind the two tuftcats. 

Chani climbed up the defensive wall and stood alongside Grayling as they watched the riders run out over the rocks. Behind them, the first rays of dawn were beginning to light up the desert, casting deceptive shadows everywhere. 

“I see nothing,” Grayling frowned. “Just sand and rocks.” 

Chani narrowed her eyes. “The rocks are moving.” 

* * * 

**I see her!** Coppersky sent. In the distance, a shape lay on the ground, occasionally twitching. Timmain saw the tuftcats approaching and summoned a weak growl. She tried to rise, but could not. 

**Timmain, High One!** Venka sent, but the only reply that came was a garbled wolf-sending. 

Timmain struggled as Sust and Coppersky dropped to the ground next to her and held her down. The wolf had completely consumed her, and she did not recognize them. But her strength was gone, and she could not fight them as they threw their shoulders against her and pinned her to the gravel. 

Weatherbird dismounted Softpaws and ran to Timmain side. **Venka, hold her jaws!** 

Venka’s hands darted in, retreated as Timmain snapped at them. 

**Timmain!** Venka locked eyes with the jackwolf and Timmain was momentarily mesmorized. Venka seized her jaws and held them close. Even lost in wolf-form, the High One shook off Venka’s spell quickly, and began to fight again. Weatherbird held Timmain’s head fast and forced the wolf to look at her. 

**Timmain! Look at me. You’re not a wolf. You’re a High One! Remember! Return to us!** 

Timmain struggled. 

**You will remember!** Weatherbird commanded. 

Timmain began to shudder. She convulsed, and the elves struggled to hold her. Her skin grew hot to the touch, and she seemed to melt in their arms. Her form lengthened and narrowed. Venka released her as her muzzle receeded back into her face. Her dun-coloured coat lightened to a fair elfin skin, and a great silver mane grew from her head. She coughed as her elf-form stabilized, and again blood welled in her mouth. Now they could more clearly see the arrow-wound clumsily patched with wrapstuff. The silken packing was saturated with blood, and in danger of coming loose. 

Now that Timmain’s struggles had eased, they could hear a distinctive sound in the darkness. The soft thunder of hundreds of footfalls on gravel and sand. 

**Let’s get her home,** Weatherbird sent. 

**Stubtail’s the biggest – he can carry her best.** Sust hefted Timmain. **Come on, Timmain. Walk!** 

Timmain moaned and stumbled over to Stubtail. She collapsed on the cat’s back, and Sust mounted behind her, holding her fast. In a heartbeat, Stubtail was off, bound for Sorrow’s End. Coppersky, Venka and Weatherbird mounted their own bondbeasts and followed at a run. 

* * * 

Leetah rushed out to receive Timmain as the riders returned. “Quickly, Grayling!” Coppersky cried. “We need the Riders. The humans are close on our heels.” 

“We have run out of time,” Haken commanded. “We must leave now!” 

“Chani, Ahdri, see that everyone prepares,” Savah said. She turned her face to the rising sun. “A red dawn for Sorrow’s End...” she whispered. 

Leetah tore away the blood-soaked wrapstuff and placed her hand over the wound. “So much blood lost...” she breathed. “Fight, Timmain! You cannot rest now!” 

Timmain coughed and drew in a sharp convulsive breath. “Live!” Leetah commanded. 

Chani lingered for a moment, casting a glance over healer and patient. Then she turned and hastened to marshal the Sun Folk. 

Slowly, the colour returned to Timmain’s face. She tried to sit up. 

“No,” Leetah urged. “Be still.” 

“No time,” Timmain moaned. “The humans–” 

“We know,” Grayling said. “Timmain.... we’re taking to the walls.” 

“I’m coming with you–” 

“You’re in no condition to fight. You’re going into the tunnel with the first of the Sun Folk.” 

The village was in a flurry of activity. Bleary-eyed farmers hastened to load their goods onto the travois and yoke it to the most docile of the tuftcats. Spar’s crescent-horn panicked at being handled by a stranger, and Wing and Behtia struggled to calm it while Ahnshen, Shashen, Coppersky and Vurdah tried to strap the heaviest load to its back. 

Windkin circled high overhead. The rising sun was gradually shrinking the shadows, revealing countless creatures making their way across the desert. Men loaded down with weapons, their backs bent over in an attempt to blend in with the shadows. The swarm was closely fast, little more than a good sprint away. 

**We have visitors!** Windkin’s sending rang out. 

“Curse them, how are they so fast?” Chani swore. 

“Jackwolf Riders!” Grayling called. “To the walls!” 

Wing kissed Behtia quickly then whistled for his wolf-friend. Behtia ran for her bow and arrows and chased after him. 

“We’ll hold them back as long as we can,” Grayling said to Haken. 

“Go now!” Haken commanded. “We’ll see the Sun Folk off.” 

The first of the Sun Folk were ready, the farmers who carried all their possessions on their backs, the lifebearers and the young children. Chani hustled the first dozen towards the tunnel opening. “Now. No second glances.” 

“Grayling–” Alekah began, but Hansha and Jari pushed her resolutely towards the gaping hole in the rocks lit red by the advancing dawn. 

“He’ll be right behind us!” Hansha insisted. 

“We have to go now,” Jari agreed. “Come, lifemate.” 

“Go with them, Timmain,” Venka implored the High One. 

“I’ll stay until the last are safe inside,” Timmain said stoically. 

“The first ones are away,” Chani told Haken. “Another three-eights and some to go.” 

Haken touched her shoulder. “Go with them.” 

“What? No... I’m staying with you.” She reached for his hand, but he twisted away. 

“Please, Chani,” he touched his forehead to hers, still holding his hand out of her reach. 

“I can fight.” 

“But I can’t... knowing you’re in danger. Go. Protect our children. Get them to Fenn on to the other side.” 

Chani hesitated a moment longer. They could now hear a new sound beyond the walls. Humans were stamping their feet and beating their weapons in rhythm. 

“Go!” Haken implored. 

“I hear my lord,” Chani nodded sadly. She took his face in her hands and kissed him fiercely. Then she turned and ran for the tunnel, not risking a glance over her shoulder. 

* * * 

“Savah, we must go!” Ahdri begged. But Savah remained seated on the bed, clasping the little statuette in her hands. She stroked the planes of its face tenderly, tears welling in her eyes. 

“Was I ever so young?” she asked softly, inspecting the youthful face that stared back at her. 

“Savah! Please! We’re running out of time.” 

“Yurek... forgive me...” she clasped the statue to her breast. “I swore I’d never leave you.” 

* * * 

“Demons!” Tagon shouted, pointing at the little figures backlit by the rising sun. The cliffs rose a full thirty feet high in some places, and atop them perched a dozen creatures armed with bows and dart-throwers. 

“Go back!” Wing shouted in the humans’ tongue. “Ma-nak say ‘Go back or die!’” 

“You do not speak for–” Aballan’s breath caught in his throat as he tried to raise his voice. The death-march over sand had weakened his lungs. “You do not speak for Manach, fell beasts of shadow! Die in the rays of the pure sun!” 

In answer, Grayling loosed a dart on the humans, felling the man next to Tagon. 

“Warriors!” Tagon cried. The humans stamped their feet and raised their weapons high. 

“Go back!” Wing attempted one last time. “We no want kill you, but we will.” 

“It’s not us who’ll die, demon!” Tagon cried. “Warriors! For Manach’s favour! For eternity!” 

The spear-bearers surged forward, while the archers aimed at the elves perched high above. The elves easily dodged and hid from the arrows. The first wave of warriors reached the base of the cliffs and made for what seemed like the best handholds. A cry rose up as a man fell into one of Spar’s sticker-traps. Another man tried to scale the rock, and the “handholds” proved to be crumbling clay, and he collapsed to the ground. A constant rain of elfin arrows and darts drove the humans back. 

“You lot, to the north!” Tagon ordered. “You, to the south! They can’t guard every inch of these cliffs! Aballan, come with me! We’ll burn these creatures who dare tell the Children of Manach what to do!” 

* * * 

“Dodia, Shashen! Halek, Rosh! Take the south wall!” Grayling ordered. “Behtia, Wing! Take Maleen and Daan to the north! We’ve got the high ground and we’re going to hold it!” 

Down below in the village, several villagers were wrestling the crescent-horn into the tunnel. “Calmly now, but with haste!” Sun-Toucher ordered. 

“Come on,” Tass cajoled the hesitant tuft-cats. “In you go.” 

The slow procession continued into the tunnel. All but the last few farmers and crafters remained. “Where is Savah?” Sun-Toucher cried. 

Ahdri led Savah out of her hut. Savah held the Little Palace tight in her hands. She hesistated at the threshold of the hut, but Ahdri gently urged her on. 

“So it ends...” Savah breathed. “Our world is closing in...” 

“Savah!” Haken rasped. “Come on!” 

* * * 

Tagon led the warriors up a gentle incline towards the south-western edge of the village. The rock walls were less sheer, hastily formed. An arrow shot down from above, and Tagon raised his woven shield. The arrow struck the shield harmlessly. 

“There!” he pointed to a little crack in the wall. “Through there. Go! Go! Go!” 

The warriors, full of adrenaline and bloodlust, surged up the hillside and began to climb the rocks. Tagon hung back cautiously, letting his brothers absorb the first volley of arrows from the creatures above. 

* * * 

**They’re coming, Grayling!** Dodia sent. **Up the south wall by the Bridge.** 

**They’re scaling the north wall too!** Daan added. 

Grayling cast a glance over his shoulder. The last of the Sun Folk were milling about the tunnel, hesitant to abandon their home until the last possible moment. Savah stood by the old well, unmoved by Ahdri pleas. Already Haken was moving towards her, and Zhantee and Tass stepped in to take Haken’s place as shielders of the tunnel. 

Grayling looked back over the wall. The humans were steadily gaining ground. They had the advantage of numbers and size. Many humans were still climbing despite two or three arrows in their backs and shoulders. They would die soon, but not soon enough. 

Weatherbird nocked another arrow and fired. It struck a human in the throat and he fell to the ground. Another human stepped on his body before he was quite dead, to get a better boost up onto the rocks. 

**Fall back!** Grayling commanded. “Fall back now!** 

**We can hold the walls!** Scouter snapped back. 

**There’s no point now, Scouter. It’s lost. We’ll not buy time with the loss of our lives. Fall back! Fall back!** 

* * * 

At the south wall, Dodia loosed her last arrow on the humans. Her quiver was empty. She had killed at least ten humans, but the invasion continued up the southern wall, barely fifteen feet high in some places and easily scaled. She heard Grayling’s call and turned from the wall. She took three bounding steps down the rocks and made for the village. 

She heard an arrow whistling behind her. 

She felt a sharp pain in her back, knocking her over. As she fell to the ground, she looked down and saw the arrowtip sticking out of her chest. 

* * * 

“Dodia!” Halek screamed. **Grayling, they got Dodia!** 

Savah cried out, clutching her chest. “No... no... not like this..” 

Haken seized her arm and hustled her towards the tunnel. “Ahdri, get her inside!” he barked as he dashed forward to cover the retreating Jackwolf Riders. 

Grayling hurried down the rocks. “Go, go!” he shouted to his feeling companions. He waved them ahead: Scouter, Shushen, Coppersky, Sust, Wing, Behtia, Maleen, Daan, Venka, Weatherbird. Windkin dropped down from the sky and rushed to join the others at the tunnel mouth. Grayling glanced to the south and saw Halek and Rosh running across the sand. The first of the human invaders were climbing down to the sand at the foot of the Bridge. 

**Tass!** 

But Tass was already sprinting across the sand to reach them. Her shielding powers reached out and encompassed them, turning away the arrows and stones shot by the humans. 

“Go, go, into the tunnel!” Grayling shouted. Zhantee now held up a shield over the tunnel wall, which he lowered briefly to allow Venka and Weatherbird in.Wing and Behtia were close behind. Sust whistled shrilly and the tuftcats who had lingered unwillingly in the rocks now acquiesced and turned down into the tunnel. 

Shushen turned and looked back at the rocks they had held only moments before. 

“No, Shushen, don’t look back!” Leetah screamed from her place at her father’s side. 

The humans were ever now cresting the hightop, aided by ropes and wooden poles. As Shushen turned, an archer lined him up in his sights and fired. 

Shushen saw the arrow coming and feebly raised his hand as if to stop it. The impact knocked him onto his back. 

“NO! Shushennnn!” Leetah howled. Sun-Toucher and Toorah held her from bolting. 

“Shushen!” Scouter spun about and ran back towards his lovemate. 

“Scouter! Don’t!” Grayling shouted. 

Scouter dropped to his lovemate’s side and held him in his arms. But Shushen was gone. 

“Scouter!” Leetah screamed. Scouter heard a whizz of an arrow. It caught him in his hip, crippling him. 

Leetah tore away from her parents and forced her way out as Zhantee lowered the shield to let Maleen and Daan in to safety. “Leetah!” her mother called, but Leetah sprinted blindly across the sand. She dropped to Scouter’s side and tried to lift him as arrows and stone pocked the sand around them. 

Tass reached them a moment later, and her shield snapped up to deflect the barrage of projectiles. “Come on!” she shouted, seizing Scouter’s other shoulder and helping Leetah haul him to his feet. 

“Shushen–” Scouter began. 

“Leave him! You can’t save him!” 

Ahdri and Savah rushed for the tunnel, Savah slowed by the train of her gown. 

“Let me take the Little Palace,” Ahdri reached for it. “Go on ahead. Savah, please –ahhh!” 

An arrow struck her shoulder, spinning her around. “Ahdri!” Savah cried, dropping the Little Palace in an attempt to catch her. The crystal hit the ground and broke in half. 

Haken ran towards them. Savah righted Ahdri on her feet and gave her a push towards them. A louder, lower hiss filled the air, and Savah turned to see a dark blur out of the corner of her eye. 

The long dart caught her square in the chest, piercing her heart. Haken reached her side just in time to catch her as she fell. 

“No! No, Savah!” 

Savah sagged against his arms limply. Her eyes were open, but the light had already left them. Haken slumped to the ground, holding her fast, his shield protecting him and Ahdri. 

“You little fool...” Haken murmured against Savah’s silver hair. 

The ground began to tremble underfoot. Rocks tumbled down from the walls above. The humans slowed in their charge, confused. 

The tremor built up strength. The ground was rocking wildly. Fingers of stone rose up from the ground around Haken and Ahdri. 

“Go...” Haken whispered, lifting his eyes from Savah’s lifeless face. 

“Savah...” Ahdri reached for her again. 

“Go!” Haken lay Savah down on the ground. The rock was rising up to swallow her. The ground underfoot had become pourous and soft as sponge. Ahdri got to her feet and ran for the tunnel. Haken reached down to the broken Little Palace, and could only snatch up one piece. The other half was already gone. 

He ran alongside Ahdri, keeping his shield in place over them both. The huts behind them were collapsing into rubble. As he cast a final glance over his shoulder, he saw Savah’s body sink into the ground, disappearing forever. 

A great crack, like unimaginable thunder, ran across the village. The elves and humans turned their heads to the south. The Bridge of Destiny was breaking, great slabs of rock fallen down into the ravine. 

“Witchcraft!” the warriors shouted as they struggled to remain standing. 

“It’s Manach’s doing!” someone cried. 

“We have sinned!” another shouted. 

“No!” Tagon raged. “No! Manach favours us! To me, warriors! To me! We will–” 

With his last burst of strength Aballan staggered to his feet and drove his dagger into Tagon’s back. The Blasphemer swayed on his feet and collapsed to the ground. 

Falling under the waves racing through the ground, Aballan looked up over Tagon’s corpse at the one-armed demon standing guard across the sands. His hood fell from his head, revealing burning golden eyes and long black hair. His gaze fell on Aballan and the old shaman felt a shudder run through him. 

“Manach...” he whispered, holding out his hand. 

He felt a searing pain as one of Tarach’s men thrust his spear into his back. Aballan’s last sight as he fell over Tagon’s body was of his god turning his back and disappearing into the black tunnel. 

“Inside! Inside!” Grayling waved Sun-Toucher and Toorah. Tass and Zhantee helped Leetah bear the wounded Scouter inside, while Timmain hustled Ahdri over the threshold. Grayling and Haken lingered at the entrance, watching the entire village collapse in on itself. Massive rockslides in the walls buried the retreating humans under stone. Savah’s great hut toppled over into a great cloud of dust. Finally the rocks about the tunnel entrance began to move, and the two elves abandoned their vigil, seeking safety deeper inside. 

* * * 

“What’s happening!” Vurdah cried out. The tunnel walls were shaking. Alekah curled into a fetal ball, while Jari and Hansha shielded her from the dust and pebbles that rained down. Chani crouched low on the ground, struggling to keep her balance. The rocks were alive and angry. But the tunnel held. And after a few moments the violence passed. The Sun Folk huddled against the walls, trying to stay calm in the near-total darkness. 

Haken stalked down the line of refugees, looking for his lifemate. Chani saw him approach, saw the pain in his eyes, and began to weep. She staggered to her feet and rushed into his arms. 

It did not take long for the others to realize what had happened. Cries echoed in the narrow tunnel as the word spread up and down the line. The Mother of Memory was dead. 

“She has what she wanted,” Haken consoled Chani. “She’s with her lifemate now, never to leave her home.” 

“Savah died trying to protect me,” Ahdri piped up from further down the tunnel, where Timmain had set her down. Leetah finished healing Scouter and now turned to remove the arrow from Ahdri’s shoulder. She looked down at the broken half of the Little Palace that Haken had given her. The sculpture had broken along the highest tower, and the tops of several of the lower turrets had snapped off as well. Ahdri closed her eyes and the Palace melted into a shapeless lump of crystal, then reformed into an abstract sculpture of Savah’s triple-roofed hut. 

Ahdri turned to look at Leetah. Leetah’s eyes were equally bloodshot and swollen with tears. 

**Kel!** Hansha called out as Grayling staggered down the tunnel. Grayling saw his lifemate huddled against the wall with Alekah and Jari and he hastened to their side. Hansha and Alekah held him close as he collapsed against them. 

“We’re safe now,” Hansha whispered. “It’s over.” 

But Grayling could only weep for the three who fell. 

* * * 

The survivors limped through the tunnel at a gentle pace, for there was no need for haste now. The sun had climbed clear of the horizon by the time they emerged into the shallow canyon. Door and Spar were there to greet them. Even at such a distance from Sorrow’s End, they could still hear the thunderclaps of rockslides and shifting cliffs. 

No one had to tell Door and Spar what had happened. Wordlessly, the lifemates gathered up Ekuar’s cocoon and fell into step alongside Haken and Chani at the head of the party. Grayling’s jackwolf moved forward, and Grayling lay the cocoon over Haze’s back. 

“A cruel sun,” Leetah murmured, supporting the limping Scouter. “It mocks us.” 

“No...” Scouter sighed. “No, the sun is just the sun, Leetah.” He closed his eyes tight to hold back further tears. “Shushen...” 

“There’s nothing more for us here,” Haken said. He glanced to Weatherbird at his side. She stepped forward and closed her eyes, sending out a silent call into the morning sky. 

Somewhere in the throng of Sun Folk, Dodia’s mother was weeping loudly. Ahdri staggered from loss of blood, and Windkin held her up. 

It seemed to take an eternity before the familiar shimmer of light filled the air around them.


	8. Rebirth

“It’s almost over, Spar.” 

Spar groaned, shifting against her lifemate. Heavy beads of sweat dotted her brow and flattened her bangs to her skin. “This is a lot harder than Mother made it seem!” she ground out between clenched teeth. 

“Bear down,” Chani commanded calmly. “Come on, Spar.” 

Spar gripped Door’s hands tightly in hers and summoned her strength for one last push. In a moment it was all over, and Chani held the tiny baby in her hands. 

“You’ve given me nothing to do,” Leetah laughed from where she sat, a respectful distance away. “Well done, Spar.” 

Door held Spar tightly, whispering something in her ear. 

“The first elf born at our new mountain,” Chani said proudly as she wrapped the little boy up and handed him to his mother. “Have a name for him?” 

Spar clasped the baby tight, mesmorized by his tiny hands and the little whorls of red hair against his scalp. She glanced over her shoulder at Door and was encouraged by his smile. 

“Um... Klipspringer,” she announced, grinning. “I – I imagine he’ll be scaling the cliffs like the little deer before long.” 

Door reached around to touch his son’s hand, and the tiny four fingers wrapped about one of his tightly. 

“You always said you wanted to create something new,” Spar murmured contentedly, snuggled back against Door’s chest. 

* * * 

Three months after the disastrous flight from Sorrow’s End, the new community at Oasis was slowly taking shape. Many of the Jackwolf Riders and the members of the ruling council took up residence in the many rockshaped caves of the central spire, while the farmers and crafters preferred to set up a village similar to Sorrow’s End in the plateau valley. Several small huts, not unlike those of Sorrow’s End, were already in place, and work progressed on several more. Sun Folk swam in the oasis itself, some fishing for the little minnows that hid among the reeds, others simply enjoying the new experience of abundant cool water in the desert heat. 

“Everything is progressing well, I think,” Swift remarked as Grayling led her on a tour about his new home. 

“As well as can be expected, I suppose.” Grayling shrugged. “We have everything we had in Sorrow’s End, and more. But at what price? If I had taken matters into my hands sooner... Savah, Shushen and Dodia would be here to enjoy it.” 

“They can still see.” Swift touched his shoulder. “You did everything right, Grayling. You know that.” 

“I know. Venka’s told me enough times. But...” 

“But the ‘what-ifs’ weigh you down. Maybe we should have inherited more of Bearclaw’s wolf-thought, hmm?” 

“I don’t think the wolf-thought was meant to encompass this,” Grayling looked up at the spire that dominated the head of the oasis. “Not a place like this... nor an alliance like this.” He could just see Haken’s silhouette standing on one of the many terraces decorating the rockshaped mountains. “The father of Winnowill herself now the father-chief of all of us... Sun Folk and Wolfriders and Gliders – and a Go-Back too, at least until the wanderlust takes Sust and Coppersky somewhere else. I hope they’ll decide to put down roots here. I’ve missed Coppersky in the Hunt.” 

“It’s a new world, no denying it,” Swift patted his shoulder. “And it will change again in another year’s time, hmm?” 

Grayling smiled. “My son will only know Oasis, only know the peace we’ll make here. Spar’s little Klipspringer won’t have to learn about humans for many years. That’s worth all we’ve endured.” 

“The Palace will return for us tomorrow,” Swift said at length. 

“Already?” 

“Timmain and Weatherbird are anxious to return home. So is Tass, I think. She’s had enough adventure for now. But I’ll come back. Venka can act as chief in my stead, and we can spend some time together, brother and sister, as we used to. And I’d like to get to know Haken and Chani properly.” 

Grayling scanned the walls of rock around them. “I could see this becoming home...” he decided at length. But sadness lingered in his voice. 

* * * 

Dawn came late to Oasis and dusk came early. The sun dipped behind the rock wall and cast long shadows around the growing village. Grayling carried out his customary perimeter patrol before retiring. It was one of the few rituals he managed to carry with to Oasis, and it comforted him during the awkward adjustment to Oasis. Slowly but surely he was beginning to learn all the contours of the landscape. 

He found Ahdri sitting by the entrance to the long winding canyon that formed the door to Oasis. She was contemplating the rock wall, one hand on the stone. 

“Ahdri?” 

Ahdri smiled softly. “She’s here, Grayling...” 

“Savah will always be with us...” 

“No!” Ahdri’s eyes were alight with joy. “No, she’s here, Grayling! In the rock. I can feel her presence. She and Yurek are here... a part of the mountains. Their spirits followed us down here. I can feel her!” She grinned. “I can’t quite send to her... but I know she’s here... and she’s... she’s so full of strength and joy again. She’s... more alive than she’s been in years.” 

Grayling touched the rock. At first he sensed nothing. But gradually he became aware of a warmth in the stone, something more than residual heat from the afternoon sun. Warmth... and a faint pulsing vibration, like a heartbeat. 

“Savah...?” 

Ahdri smiled. 

* * * 

Grayling hiked back to the den he shared with Hansha. It was half a cave, half a hut, built into the side of the mountain overlooking the valley. One terrace below them stood Alekah and Jari’s den. Three wide steps connected the two terraces. Jari hoped to plant a garden across the adjoining terraces. Alekah was out on the terrace, dozing in the little chair Jari and Hansha had built for her. Nearly a year into her pregnancy, her abdomen was swollen under her loose gown, and a renewed flush came to her cheeks. Grayling decided not to disturb her, but quietly ascended the steps up to the doorway to his den. 

Hansha was working on a delicate gold necklace, carefully twisting and braiding thin wires into the shape of a bird. 

“For Spar,” he explained when he saw Grayling watching him intently. “Door asked me for it.” 

Grayling’s eyes scanned their home. Windows let in the fading sunlight. A single tapestry, freshly woven on Alekah’s loom, covered the floor in the main room. Hansha’s new projects – little clay masks representing cats, wolves, and desert birds – sat out to dry under the windows. Grayling walked over to look at them. Two were very crude, clearly simple templates for future metalworking. Two more were careful craftered, the eagle mask featuring etching to simulate feathers about the eye holes, the child-sized fox’s-head mask painstakingly smoothed and polished with a light glaze. 

“Kel?” Hansha asked. “You all right?” 

Grayling smiled. “I’m all right, green-eyes.” He glanced out the window. A few candles were already lit inside several huts below. Scouter and a few of the Jackwolf Riders had lit their nightly bonfire, and a dozen Sun Folk had gathered about the fire to sing and share stories. Above the peaks that guarded them, the first stars were beginning to come out. 

If he concentrated on the shifting shadows cast by the fire, he could almost imagine two new elf children running about on the sand, one a gangly boy with lightly tanned skin and auburn hair, the other a younger lad, his skin darker, his dark brown hair topped by a clay mask in the shape of a fox’s head. 

“I’m all right,” Grayling repeated.

**Author's Note:**

> Check out the full EQ Alternaverse at http://www.janesenese.com/swiftverse


End file.
